


If It Goes On

by MaybeInAutumn



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-26 07:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 48,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13853421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeInAutumn/pseuds/MaybeInAutumn
Summary: Carl shouldn't have died. No matter how well the series do after, I will never be convinced that Carl should die.So I made it that he doesn't.





	1. Chapter 1

Rick's panicky look had not eased for maybe hours. Even while he was driving, his eyes were darting between the road to the rearview mirror, which was angled not behind the car, but the back seat. He was constantly wondering when Carl would wake up in pain. Cry. Or maybe from a nightmare.

The thing was, they all knew what someone who was a victim of rape would act. Right? For all their life, news articles and biographies were readily available so the world could be educated. Someone got raped, they go to the hospital. They're angry and ashamed. They're fearful. They get therapy and maybe self-defence classes. Some get depression, while some had a good support network to get better... Some get pregnant.

Rick eyed the back again. He was literally waiting for the shoe to drop. He kept waiting for the moment for Carl to cry, to feel victimised, to give him a chance for him to hurt too. He didn't do right by Carl. He wasn't a good father. And Carl damn well deserve better.

Rick ached for his firstborn, to have to grow up in such an ugly world, to have to fight for a chance to see the next sunrise. And now, he was even- Rick had sworn to protect this lovable child when he was born, didn't he? So why had Carl still have to face so so much?

Rick pulled his gaze back onto the road again. Without Lori and without Judith, Carl was the single most important thing in Rick's life. He had already failed them all, but he never thought he would fail Carl in such an unforgivable manner. Carl, his lovable boy, was too good for this ugly, beastial world.

 

The car engine droned on, loose components in the car hood clanging endlessly and ominously. Carl kept his eyes closed to feign sleep. Leave the dreaded conversations and worried glances for another day.

Everything hurt, or at least rationally, they should have been hurting right now. Nothing explained the dark chasm of numbness spreading over his mind. The scariest thing of it all (even scarier than when his mom dragged them out the door into a zombie infested world) – he didn’t know what to do anymore.

Somehow, despite all the immensely wrong things he had seen and had done in this messed up world, it was this that had brought him to this point – he felt completely lost.

He lay in Michonne's lap, soaking up her warmth and protectiveness, erasing the cold of the rocky ground and the sticky remnants from hours ago.

It wasn't even the most painful thing he had ever experienced, that would be the conscious and drug-less surgery to remove bullet fragments from when he was ten. It was so painful he'd passed out several times. This, this was a different kind of pain, but certainly not worse in intensity.

He knew he wasn't any different from before. Didn't feel any different, apart from the physical pain.  The most unsettling thing was perhaps, that he was empty. No fear, no hatred, not even anger. He had known next to nothing about something like this, as if he was scolded in a language he didn't understand, and all he know was the tone must be wrong, because it felt so.

Even more worrying was that he didn't know how to face his dad, Michonne and Daryl, because it was the most obvious thing in the world, that they were waiting for something. But he couldn't act a certain way without even knowing how he was expected to react to what happened to him, because honestly, he was too numb to feel any strong emotions right now. Yes, it had hurt badly. Yes, he felt very scared and cornered and helpless. That was a feeling he would never want to feel again, but then so was the feeling when he realised he had to be the one to shoot his mother. So was the moment when he had shot Uncle Shane who was dead but yet, undead. He had always known what to do in those times.

So he was hurt. But that's okay. They made it out safely and in one piece. He had his family with him. That was more than enough to be grateful for. The only thing left for him to do was figure himself out.

Finding his place in this post-apocalyptic world, facing ordeals with a single-minded focus and doing what he had to do no matter how hard it was, was always within him. Maybe it was the birthright of children like him, growing up in this hellhole, to be able to adapt like no adult can. The only time he had surrendered was that night after the prison got overrun and he woke up hearing his dad's groans. He had really thought he was alone in the world then. No one to fall back on, not even his last kin. The immense flood of love for his father and hopelessness overwhelmed him. He might have dropped the gun then, but in that moment, he truly felt that letting go and joining his family in death was the path to take.

It was as if he turned around and found the answer staring at him in the face.

He had lost everything in that desperate time, and he chosen a few last moments with his father over living on. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but it would always remain a part of him. However, he didn't lose anything this time.

It hurt. It scared him. But he, and everyone else was alive, and wasn't that just the single most important thing that filled him with the will to fight? He did not need to make a stand on anything. Forget the torture from last night. The reason for him to keep fighting and surviving, it's still here, and he would go through it all over again if it meant his family lived. That was how much more important to him this group of people was. And that was all he needed to know.

 

She didn’t think he could fall asleep. She didn’t expect it, but he did, and she was thankful. The boy lay in her lap since last night, closed eyes, and thought he had to be fooling everyone. Michonne couldn’t help her eyes from wetting, looking down at the peaceful boy, whose breathing just evened out after a whole night of pretense. She pulled a few strands of hair back from his face. When a tear dripped onto his cheek, she brushed it away.

Carl was the toughest of them all. He was. Michonne’s lips trembled. Carl hadn’t shed a single tear since then. And she hurt for him more than he hurt for himself.

Michonne wiped her face and rested her right hand on the boy’s arm, that was curled up in front of his.

“We should save it to drink.” Rick voice softly penetrated into the car.

“You can’t see yourself. He can.” Michonne’s jaws gritted. After a period of sorrow came anger. None of them should have had to do what they did, but that was the law of the world now?

“How’d you wind up with them?”

“I was with Beth. We got out together. I was with her for a while.”

“Is she dead?”

“She’s just gone. After that, that’s when they found me. I knew they were bad, but they had a code. It was simple. Stupid, but it was something… It was enough.”

“And you weren’t alone.” Michonne noticed the sigh disguised as a long exhale that came from Carl. He was listening.

“Said they were looking for some guy. Last night they said they spotted him. I was hanging back. I was gonna leave. But I stayed. That was when I saw it was you three. Right when you saw me. I didn’t know what they could do.” Carl’s hand clenched on her leg involuntarily. Michonne comforted him the only way she knew how to comfort a child, pulling him closer into her chest. She wasn’t his mother. Or anyone to him. But he went willingly.

“It’s not on you, Daryl. Hey. It’s not on you. You being back with us here, now, that’s everything.” Carl’s grip loosened. So close like this, Michonne could feel Carl go lax in her arms.

“You’re my brother.” Rick said. Michonne’s brows wrinkled tightly, her lips pinched while the boy in her arms turned himself around so he could hide his face in her stomach, like Andre used to do.

“What you did last night. Anybody would have done that.”

If she was in Rick’s position. She would surely have. This was Carl. Independent and wise for his age Carl. Kind-hearted and forgiving Carl. She would have chewed the neck of ten men if it meant he didn’t have to be tortured like that.

“No, not that.”

”Something happened. That ain’t you.”

“Daryl, you saw what I did to Tyreese. It ain’t all of it, but that’s me. That’s why I’m here now. That’s why Carl is. I want to keep him safe. That’s all that matters.”

Her shirt felt wetter. They stayed that way for a long time.

 

Carl went with Michonne. His dad still had that look in his eyes, that said ‘I’m so sorry’. Seeing that was a reminder, and as much as he could hold his head up high now, the pain was still fresh. Michonne and he made good time, out of eyesight and earshot of his dad soon. The surroundings were cleared. This was an area that was kept clear. Either the people in Terminus was cautious enough to do sweeps constantly, or they were out here often for some reason.

“It’s quiet.” Carl scanned the surroundings again, trying to catch anything amiss.

“Mmh.” Michonne grunted. Carl looked at Michonne’s back. He never said this to anyone, but he trusted her judgement more than others. When she looked that things, she didn’t see them a good person would, like mom. She also didn’t see them a survivor would, like dad. She saw them for what they were instead. And that was a difference they needed in their group, if they wanted to meet things with good judgement.

The second time they crept close to the fence, the compound below was still eerily empty. No signs of life nor undead. Carl couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad. It unsettled him.

Carl stepped to the side to check out some more, but his hand was held back.

“We’re heading out too far. Risk of ambush.” She nodded her head towards the woods, and Carl followed.

They made their way, rounding back to the meet point. Carl knew what to look for – a trail of broken branches, footsteps in the ground, or even marking on trees.

He figured this was as good a time as any. He placed his hand on Michonna’s arm, making sure she was looking at him, then said, “Thank you.”

Carl walked in the front this time. Michonne caught up in two steps. Unlike his dad, Michonne looked at him the same as before. If she were going to talk to him about that night, Carl would be okay with it.

But she didn’t.

“When I told you about Andre, you never asked how he died.”

Carl shrugged. “I knew why.”

“Yeah, but the how is important.” They slowed to a stop. Carl turned to face her, taking in whatever she was telling him. Voluntarily, this time. He didn’t even have to force it out of her. “We went to a refugee camp.”

“Andre and my boyfriend Mike, that was Andre's father, and our friend Terry. At the camp, it just got worse and worse. People were leaving. People givin’ up- but I didn’t. Michonne‘s breath shuddered.

“I was coming back from a run. I saw the fences were down. I heard the moans. It was over.” He knew what that felt like. He knew what it meant, turning around and realising the things he was fighting for was already gone.

“And Mike and Terry, they were high when it happened. They were bit. Could have stopped it. Could have killed them. But I let them turn. I made it so they couldn't bite, couldn't scratch. I tied chains around their necks. It was insane. It was sick. It felt like what I deserved, dragging them around so that I would always know. I found out that they kept me safe. They hid me. The walkers didn't see me anymore. I was just another monster.”

“And I was. Me. I was gone for a long time. But then Andrea brought me back. Your dad brought me back. You did. I see how you've been looking at your dad. You don't have to be afraid of me or him.”

Carl wasn’t. He really wasn’t. It was time, he should face it.

“He told me the other day that he was proud of me. That I was a good man. I'm not.” Carl smirked coldly, and it scared Michonne. “Carl-”

“I know more now. About what he wanted for me. And I tried, but... I still have these thoughts.  I'm not what he thinks I am. I'm just another monster, too.” That was one moment of clarity for Michonne. The boy she wanted to comfort, the one whom she wanted to soothe, whom had suffered greatly two nights ago… she thought wrong, he didn’t need this comfort. Not anymore. Her being there for him that night as he lay on her lap, was already enough. Carl did the strong thing and left it back then, where it belonged. They were the ones still looking at him like he was another victim in their perception, wearing kids gloves on someone who stopped being a kid a long time ago. Then, Michonne heard what Carl said. Heard how he had completely understood the entirety of what she had just shared, and returned the sentiment in full.

Not to me, Michonne thought. And she didn’t need to say it, not when she could show it. She brought Carl in for a hug. This time, it didn’t feel like she was hugging Andre.

It felt like she was hugging Carl.

 

Carl would have never thought they would find a place like this. There was clean water, running from the tap and in the showers. There was an adequate supply of food. They had a roof over their heads that was not at risk of being torn down by walkers. It was ten times more than anything he had  wished for at any one given moment. But the other people around them?

Carl could remember a time when he lived a life like that. Going to school during the day. Wished he could make a really really good friend that didn’t mind how shy he was. Come home to mom’s cooking and greet dad at the door. Now, friends were delivered practically to his doorstep, along with the chance at a normal life again, and Carl was angry.

He was angry at them. He was angry with the world. From his window on the second floor, he stared at the steel wall around them, angry at this illusion of safety. It’s gonna come down. It always did. And the safer it made them feel, the worse it’s gonna hit them when it finally comes down, like what happened with the prison. On the other side of the road, three teens his age strolled and laughed, like the older kids had seen walk home after school in the past. He bet none of them never even seen a walker from a mile away, living protected behind the walls and unable to fight like cattle. That’s not gonna be him. He wouldn’t let it.

Carl stepped away from the window and checked his backpack. Their firearms were collected, but not other weapons. He still had a very sharp dagger on him, one he had with him for a long time. It was heavy enough to be comforting, and a blood groove that made it much easier to pull from a walker, or a human.

Like his dad, first thing he did when they got to this house was head for the kitchen. Both of them took a knife, his dad a regular kitchen knife, while he found a smaller fruit knife. It wasn’t hard to guess whether it could penetrate deep enough into a walker’s head by experience. It would.

Carl dug around through his one set of spare clothing, bottles of water and some basic medical supplies, and found it. It was something he picked up a long time ago then they looted a departmental store. It was a waist holster meant for guns, with a dagger pouch on the middle of his back. He hadn’t had the chance to use it, as he carried his gun under his belt like dad, and knife in his external dagger holster. He never had a reason to hide his weapons.

Carl put it on under his clothes, and put the knives in, feeling like he could finally breathe. He pulled out the knives from each side, just to give it a try, and it was easy. Safe for him, no risk of cutting himself, even if he were to roll on his back.

He opened his new closet and noted that he was given three new sets of clothing. He held each of them by feel, and chose the thicker ones that wouldn’t get torn easily, then put that set of clothing back in his backpack. The empty bottles he filled with water, and they went back in his backpack.

Carl came down the steps, making little sound by habit and found his dad on the porch holding his darling sister. The other house might be slightly smaller than the one they took, but it didn’t sit right to leave it unchecked. Carol felt the same way.

It was identical in furniture available, a TV, thought there weren’t any broadcasts, couches and a dining table. There were pots and pans, as usual, and a full set of seasonings. Luxuries they hadn’t been able to afford for a long time, basically. Carl took another knife, and hung it on his belt. He was going to bring it back to their house so they had more for cooking, but going up the stairs, the familiar feeling of nakedness came to him. He drew the kitchen knife, and stalked the halls steadily.

All the doors were open, except one. He pushed the door open and raised the knife in one motion.

It was sort of an attic. Carl walked in looked around. There wasn’t much, but something caught his eye – a magazine. A comic one, to be exact. Carl smiled, he hadn’t had any luck with one of these in weeks.

The last few rooms were all either bedrooms or washrooms. Knowing they were all likely to be staying together for a few nights, he grabbed the toiletries he could carry and made his way back.

Night time tonight was cozier than he had remembered. Same people, same covered up windows, but brighter and relaxed. It was as if a tense breath was released, and they no longer had to watch their volume and keep their ears tuned in to the surroundings. They were safe especially because they were all together. He was halfway through the comics when Deanna came to visit.

When some of them were already laying down for bed, Carl took his place on the very edge of the huddle. Michonne’s eyes were on him, but she didn’t say anything.

The others noticed it, like they did for the past few nights. Carl used to always sleep in the middle, in sight by almost everyone. It was some kind of protective instinct of the group, protecting the young like their heart. Carl never thanked anyone for it, until he couldn’t. Feeling their presence all around him while sleeping was uncomfortable nowadays. He was closed in, and he couldn’t tell who from who. He wouldn’t hear anyone approaching. Instead, if something were to happen, he knew what he would rather do. He would rather fight. None of them knew what was going on, and Carl never acted much different, but they might have known something was up with him sleeping with his knife next to his pillow.

The next day, he was invited to a teen’s house. His name was Ron. It was the first person he spoke to outside their group, not including Deanna and Jessie, who walked with him to her house.

Ron was 15, the same age as him, and was a few centimetres taller. He might be one of the teens Carl saw yesterday, walking home. Carl was about to reach his hand out for a shake and give a polite ‘How are you?’

“Hey man. Nice to meet you.” Ron slapped his hand, then clasped it again in greeting.

Something in Carl came back to life. “Sup? Hi.” Carl greeted back, not thinking about how he was speaking any more than what he was speaking. He did not know it until then, but years of being around adults and strangers that wanted to kill them, had extinguished some of the warmth teens his age usually held for people. Ron’s carefree confidence in talking to him, no walls and no guard against him, was a stark contrast to how Carl was observing Ron at that time, and Carl knew it.

“Come, let me bring you up.” Ron led him into his house. Conversation flowed easily from him. Ron either didn’t notice Carl’s initial coldness, or he was a really good people-person. Carl’s guessing it’s the former. Carl let the boy in him take over, responding to Ron only when he had to. They talked about the teens in their community, about school, about his plans onwards.

“Little kids go in the morning, and then it’s us in the afternoon. Probably you, too, right?”

School sounded kind of ridiculous to him. Unless they taught the kids how to stay safe and how to fight walkers, which didn’t sound like it, Carl’s not sure he wanted to waste his time on it. He used to like the idea of school, but now, little was more urgent than learning survival skills.

However, he blurted out even without thinking, “Probably.” This was the first interaction with another boy his age in years, the only thing he seemed to be focusing on was to be liked. That realisation stung. He wasn’t this person, and he certainly didn’t want to be. He was then introduced to Mikey and Enid on the second floor, and Enid’s dislike of him, which was apparent, was a last straw. Carl felt the distance between him and them. A gaping wide trench which was mocking him.

Carl’s face hardened and heated.

He didn’t know how to reply. Video games? Pool table? Last time he was a normal kid, he was barely twelve. He didn’t know shit about mixing with them. The only thing he knew was hiding from walkers, tracking walkers, killing walkers, and occasionally, shooting people. Because he shot his mom.

His throat closed in his internal panic, eye darting around, not wanting to meet Ron’s eyes but not knowing what to look at. He felt like a monster in a kid’s body.

Ron finally realised something was not right. His mom told the truth to Carl, he was excited to meet Carl. He had been since he had heard about him. Carl was the same age, a boy like him, and he had lived on the outside since the outbreak. Carl was a complete unknown to Ron, and also a fresh face to his small group of friends in this safe-zone. He had been asking his mom to bring him since Carl entered the enclosure.

He didn’t even notice how Carl was so reserved until that moment. He boy ‘s head was tilted down, eyes averted and cheeks reddened. Ron swallowed, feeling bad for Carl, even without knowing what’s wrong. When Enid came in, she was silent and distant. Carl, instead, was friendly, and that gave him an illusion that maybe Carl wasn’t like her. He was okay. But he wasn’t, just in a different way.

“Sorry,” Ron was sincere, “I guess we come on kind of strong.” Ron apologised in a low voice, hoping Carl would feel better and not just give up on them altogether. “We can just hang out. You don’t even have to talk, if you don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, took Enid three weeks to say something.” Mikey smiled.

“Pull it together, sport.” Enid bit out.

He couldn’t play the part. That was more clear to Carl than ever, and the thing was, he didn’t wanna. The things that happened for the past years, they made him who he was. He wasn’t going to throw it all away to assume an empty identity.

But he could try to be their friends, couldn’t he? Just be himself. Then, if it didn’t work out, it wasn’t on him. Everyone in their group had their own jobs to do. Everyone of them had their challenges to face to fit into the community. So he had to do his part too.

Carl pointedly did not reach for the knife handle on his back to feel safe. “Let’s play some video games.”

The game was fun. It took him a while to start enjoying it though. There was a transition from an activity of pressing buttons and staring at a screen, to accomplishing the objectives and having fun. It was certainly easier than he thought it would be. The tried several games, all of them relatively popular ones from before the outbreak.

He was especially grateful to Ron. He taught him well, and kindly, making small jokes here and there to make him feel comfortable. Mikey, on the other hand, was the enthusiastic fun-loving one, taunting Ron and him to challenges. Carl truly did grow to feel more comfortable with them. They were both genuinely good kids. Their conversations were all about safe topics. Perhaps because of his behaviour early on, none of them tried to ask about his life from before.

The only thing that bothered him was, maybe Enid. The girl was from outside the wall, they said. He didn’t sense anything from her, though. She wasn’t like Ron and Mikey, who spent their days playing games, hanging out or gaming. She obviously wasn’t like him either, person on high alert to anything that was going on and being in complete consciousness and control over his body. She was simply quiet and uninterested. She lay heavily on the bed, offering a word when prompted by Ron, and ignored them the rest of the duration.

“Let’s take a break.” Ron yawned and stretched his body. Mikey stood up and went to the washroom. Carl was engaged in watching the two of them battle it out, and sat on the corner of the bed. Ron went to sit next to Enid, checking out what she was reading. Hmm. Enid held the magazine up so Ron could see, and she pointed to where she was reading. Ron held Enid hand, which was holding up the magazine, and asked her something softly.

Carl was a bit confused by what was happening until the realisation hit him. Were they…? Boyfriends and girlfriends?

That was what it was, right?

Carl turned back to the screen, reading the stats for the two sides, but thinking about what it meant that Ron and Enid were together. ‘They must like each other’ was the only explanation that made sense to him. Maybe.

He couldn’t help but think about Glenn and Maggie.

No matter how much he thought about it, the two pairs didn’t feel similar at all.

He was offered to stay and have dinner with them, but Carl was already tired for the day. Sitting still in a room the whole day, playing a video game, something about that was too easy for him. Too unnatural.

Carl declined. He would rather be home to eat with his family.

Back in his room, he lay on the bed, sorting out his feelings. He should be happy. He had everything now, yet he felt empty, like he was waiting on something to happen, like he was burying his head in the sand about something, and that thing was called ‘reality’.

“How was Ron’s house?”

Carl took a deep breath, ignoring his father’s question to ask his own. “What do you think of this place?”

“Well, I think it seems… nice.”                                     

“Yeah. I like it here. I like the people.” He didn’t lie, but the next part was the part he wanted to get off his chest. “But they’re weak. And I don’t want us to get weak, too.” Carl turned his gaze away from his father, holding the dagger in his hand, and turning it over.

“That, is a good call.” His dad was nodding his head. “From tomorrow onwards, I’ll head out with you, every morning, just before daybreak. We need to keep sharp.”

“What about the others?”

“Well, that’s up to them. For what it’s worth, I don’t think any of us would be content to stay inside here for the rest of our lives. We’re not the same as the people here, Carl. None of us are.”

The next morning, Carl woke up an hour before sunrise. His internal body clock was already wired from years of being outside.

Rick was not in the house, probably went outside to do a sweep like he usually did outside while others were asleep. Carl headed to the main gate to wait for his dad outside. The skies were still dark, but with a lighter shade of blue peeking over the horizon. Sunrise couldn’t be further than half an hour.

He reached the gate. There were supposed to be one guard at any one time, so where was he? Carl went forward to pull the screen behind the gate away, a dagger in hand just in case.

The sound of a rifle clocking sounded behind him. He froze, and raised his hands the way he was taught.

“Turn the fuck around, asshole. Let me see who the hell you are.”

There was no recognition in the guard’s eyes. Not everyone had seen him, true. And not everyone would remember him. Carl used the calmed voice he could muster while held at gunpoint. “I am Carl Grimes. I’m part of the group that just came in this week. You can ask Deanna. Or Rick Grimes, you should know him.”

The guard didn’t seem to be suspicious anymore. Truthfully, Carl didn’t even have to explain his own identity. The man was already feeling bad about holding a kid like him at gunpoint. He didn’t even bother checking and lowered his rifle.

 _That’s going to get us killed sooner or later._ Carl eyed how lax the guard was about catching a stranger supposedly breaking their perimeter.

“Well, what are you doing out here at this hour? We don’t allow kids freedom past these gates without a parent with them. Go back to bed.”

Carl leaned back against the metal wall, arms and legs crossed.

“What are you still standing here for? Shoo.”

Carl didn’t move.

“Oi. Didn’t you hear what I just said? Hey!” The guard started to shout.

“Carl!” His dad jogged over. The guard spun around and recognised Rick Grimes. “Jeffrey. It’s alright, he’s waiting for me here.”

Carl watched as Jeffrey stared his father down. “Well, next time, wait somewhere else. Get the fuck out of my sight.”

Rick sighed. “I’m bringing him outside.”

Jeffrey turned around and stared. “At this hour? You’re kidding me. I’m not letting you anywhere.”

Carl dropped his arms and backed away form the wall and towards Jeffrey, but was held back by Rick. “I have Deanna’s word that our group are free to leave as and when we wish, Jeffrey.”

“You can do whatever you want. But not this kid.”

Carl was at the limit of his patience. “This kid killed more walkers than everyone in this safe-zone combined!” Carl snarled. He was again held behind his dad, but he could clearly see the chocked face of Jeffrey.

Jeffrey was going to advance on them, but was stopped by Spencer. Deanna was just behind them. “I made it clear they are free to leave, Spencer. Carl is included.”

“We have rules-“

“That applied to our people because most of us don’t have training, nor experience. Ask me if any of the youngsters we have can go out alone, and it’ll be a no every single time, but look in front of you, Jeffrey. Does he look helpless to you?” Deanna courteously supplied.

“No ma’am.” Carl eyed the lady, not responding. It didn’t matter what they thought of him, it only mattered that he was allowed to go out now.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Rick. We are all going through the period of adjustment, appreciate it if you can have a bit more patience with our people.”

Spencer patted Jeffrey on the shoulder, “Here to relieve y-“ Jeffrey pushed the hand off forcefully.

Rick pushed the gates open, and Carl followed suit.

When they were finally outside, they headed deeper into the woods together. The day was brightening already, and the woods were no longer pitch dark.

“Here.”

Carl’s eyes widened. His handgun was held in his father’s hand.

“We’re allowed to carry weapons outside the gate. Olivia knows about it. Next time, you can retrieve it from her yourself. Just remember to return it.”

“I will.”

They made their rounds together today, walking the first before splitting up and agreed to meet back in an hour.

Rick started looking for the cabin he hid his handgun that day, killing some walkers on the way.

Carl headed towards the houses along the side of the road the first day they reached Alexandria. He crept around the place to where he had seen Enid that day, finding no trace of her. He rounded to the spot where he had seen Enid climb out of the fence, staying quiet and checking for tracks like how Daryl taught him.

Not a moment too soon, a figure was seen over the top of the wall, and Carl was hidden in the bushes. Enid climbed over the wall and slowly lowered herself. She let go when she was at the lowest and jumped down. He had a backpack behind her, travelling lightweight. She headed into the forest, and out of curiosity, Carl followed. He followed her for another ten minutes until they returned to the same point they started.

If she didn’t catch on to him before, she must have now. He hadn’t really bothered concealing his traces, and now they were laid out beneath her feet. Unless she knew absolutely nothing about the forest, the traces were unmistakeable. As expected, she suddenly broke into a run.

The urge to go after her was still strong, but curiosity only took him so far. The girl was none of her business, and since she seemed to be experienced in doing whatever she was doing, Carl wasn’t worried about her safety. She was able to survive out here last time for a reason, right?

With that, Carl ignored her tracks and made his own way into the woods, heading towards where his dad must have gone. If she thought he was interested enough to chase after her, she would be disappointed.

He found his dad following the dead walkers on the way, and found him squatting in front of a pile of junk. Making a quick guess, Carl asked, “Hid something here that day? A gun?”

Rick looked up at his son. “Well, whatever I did hide is gone now.”

“What do you mean by gone?”

“Someone took it. Someone from Alexandria.”

“They took it for themselves?”

Rick nodded. If it was to report them, they would have already heard about it. More likely it was someone who didn’t want people to know they’re carrying, like him. Moans came from behind Rick – three of them. Carl shared a knowing look with his dad, and they both readied together. It was exhilarating, to be doing this after a few days of being sedentary. Carl took down his share expertly, and upon realising another had crawled out of the pile of junk and grabbed his dad’s leg, Carl finished off the third one so he could kill the fourth one.

This routine of their continued from that day onwards, keeping them on their toes, until the third day. His dad was distracted the day before, and said he would not be going with him today.

Carl went out by himself, heeding his dad’s words of not going too far, and carrying a walkie with him just in case. His aim was getting pretty sharp, though he kept the use of a gun to a minimum. His weakness was still mostly his size and last of strength. It was still going to be hard for him if he was ever pinned.

He didn’t realise it was much of a big deal until Ron dragged him to his room later that day. Mikey was there. Enid was there too.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Ron sighed. “What are you doing? That’s a gun, right? Where were you?”

Carl sensed that things were weird. “I was just about to return this to Olivia. I can come over later after I do.” Carl turned around to leave, but Ron blocked the door.

“We already heard about it. The whole community knows about it. What are you doing, Carl? Going out there? Everyday? By yourself? Why are you doing that?”

“It’s not your business.” Carl stated coldly.

“It IS my business! We’re friends, aren’t we?” **We are?** Carl looked into Ron’s eyes. **Friendship these days is not an easy word to throw around, Ron. How far are you willing to go far me, if you say we’re friends?**

Changing tactics, Carl tried again. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”

Mikey spoke up, “Dude, it doesn’t matter if you think you can take care of yourself. You don’t _need_ to be out there anymore. We have food here. Water. Shelter. Everything you need. It’s safer inside here.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Ron whispered, far more solemnly than Carl had expected. He had only known him for a little over a week. They wouldn’t even cry if he really died. **Why do you care?**

“Leave him. He just wants to show off. ‘He can go out and we can’t’, isn’t that right, Carl?” Enid’s tone was very sharp and acidic. **She has something against me? But she barely knows me. What a hypocrite. She’s been sneaking out longer than I have, and I had permission.**

“Enid.” Ron hissed. “Look, Carl, we’re just worried. We heard that you’ve been going out alone and- Haven’t you heard? There was a six-people group that went out yesterday. Only three came back safe. One of them was uncons-”

“Are you talking about Tara?” Carl’s fist clenched. “I’ll tell you what happened. Six people went out. A guy thought he was smart shooting at a walker in a bulletproof riot suit and detonated a grenade. You know what’s dumb about that? The grenade? No. What kind of idiot empties out his clip on a walker’s torso, even if there isn’t any bulletproof vest? That guy got blown back three feet and got impaled. Everyone else had to risk their lives to go back and get him. And the second guy deserted his friends first chance he got, and fed the others to the walkers to save his own skin. What’s the danger here? Walkers? Or a couple of inexperienced and nervous cowards?”

His outburst shocked Ron and Mikey. He didn’t bother turning around to look at Enid. If she didn’t like him, then nothing he say was going to change that.

There was no easier way to put this. Like he said, he wasn’t going to pretend to be someone he’s not. He’s not afraid of being an outsider. Giving up who he was and turning into one of them, was scarier.

“I know how you all feel about Alexandria. It’s safe, there’s everything, but I lived outside since the outbreak. I’ve seen things. One thing I know for sure is that life had taught me how to survive. And I survive to live life longer. I know that staying in Alexandria is going to cripple us if I’m not careful, and that’s not going to happen.” Meeting Ron’s eyes dead on, he spoke his piece resolutely. What they make of it was up to them.  He turned back to open the door, and found Jessie outside the door with a plate of fruits. He ignored her and walked out, knowing it seemed rude, but he didn’t want to be in their presence anymore.

On the way back from returning the gun, he was going to avoid the Anderson household until he heard a loud crash. Fearing for Ron’s well-being, Carl ran forward towards the crash and found his dad and Pete fighting each other. Carl was the first to try to grab his dad but was flung back. To his shock, when the others were about to intervene, his dad pulled a gun. It was shockingly reminiscent to the night when they left the farm and he announced his absolute leadership over everyone, or the day in the prison when Sasha and Tyreese looked to him for help, and he rejected them cruelly.

He was frenzied and angry. He was not himself, and he was dangerous.

“Put that gun down, Rick.”

His dad scoffed. “You still don't get it. None of you do! We know what needs to be done and we do it. We're the ones who live. You, you just sit and plan and hesitate. You pretend like you know when you don't.” His dad was focused on Deanna, but his gun was pointed at Pete, unwaveringly.

Then he turned to face Jessie, speaking loudly. “You wish things weren't what they are.”

And he addressed Deanna again, “Well, you want to live? You want this place to stay standing? Then your way of doing things is done.”

Michonne had told him before, not to be afraid of his dad or her. But she had gotten that wrong. He was never afraid of them. Not then, and certainly not now.

Walking forward slowly, he moved towards where Pete was lying on the ground. On the opposite side, Ron was staring at him fearfully. Enid shook her head at him.

“Things don't get better because you... you want them to. Starting right now, we have to live in the real world. We have to control who lives here.”

Deanna interrupted. “That's never been more clear to me than it is right now.”

“Me? Me? You... You mean... you mean me? Your way is gonna destroy this place! It's gonna get people killed. It's already gotten people killed. And I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen! If you don't fight, you die.” He shifted the gun to point at Deanna, but Carl got there sooner.

Even if he wasn’t in the right state of mind, his dad would never hurt him. His dad froze, and that was all the opening Michonne needed, knocking him out cold.

 

Carl sat by his dad’s side for several hours before Michonne came to chased him away. “Hey.”

Carl looked back at Michonne.

“You ever do something like that again, you’re going to get a taste of this.” She held out her fist and rolled it. “You hear me?”

Carl smiled tiredly. “Okay. Take care of him.”

He headed home in the dark alone, and was startled by the sound of a branch snapping behind him. It took everything for him to keep walking at the steady pace he set. All of a sudden, he dropped to the ground to tie his shoelaces even though his shoes didn’t have any, eye darting back to check who was behind him, but the streets were empty. Some corners were too dark to make out, and houses were told to keep their lights off at night as one of the precautions his dad took.

Best bet was to just get home quickly. He stood back up and walked at a brisk pace.

A strong pair of arms grabbed him. He tried to scream, but his mouth was muffled by a piece of cloth.

He was held against a tall, male body. His hands were locked to his side and a hand was held tightly over his face. He caught a familiar whiff of smoke and a strong alcohol scent... like the Claimers had… His first instinct was panic, even though he did his best to suppress that. He tried to struggle madly to test the strength of his captor then a fist crashed against the back of his head. He blacked out.

When he came to, he was tied down, ropes over his body and a tall figure watching him from the sofa. He was just tied and dumped in the middle of the living room. A wad of cloth over his mouth.

He choked with fear. No one would be looking for him now. If there was going to be any help, he’d have to wait till morning. He didn’t even know how long was he out.

As the fuzz cleared from his vision, he recognised Pete. His face was black and blue, and he was just… sitting there. Alcohol in one hand, and leather belt in the other. It was sick, how quickly his heart calmed at seeing the belt. It meant he probably didn’t intend to... touch him. Just beat him only.

Carl swallowed, looking around to see if anyone else was in the house, but no, just him. It was an unfamiliar house. The update he had heard just now about Pete and Jessie being separated came to mind. That left Pete with basically the entire night to do whatever he wanted with no one to walk in on him.

Carl stayed still, trying not to antagonise Pete.

“Go ahead.” The man’s gravelly voice sounded.

“Struggle.” He whispered. Carl’s heart began to race again.

“No one’s going to come for you now.” He took a few mouthfuls of alcohol. “Your dad took my family away. Now I’ll take away his.”

That didn’t sound like Pete was intending to stop with just beating him up.

The man stood up from the couch, unravelling the belt in his hand. Carl moved his bound hands behind his back, finding his dagger still there, only out of reach. The ropes were really tight.

The man grabbed something from the table. The gleam caught Carl’s eyes and he had to shut them. Something sharp and pointed touched his neck, and Carl froze. From what he could tell, it was a pair of scissors, opened up so his neck was between the blades.

The man was right in front of him now, looking into his face with an angry smile, as if he couldn’t wait to lay his blade into Carl’s neck.

But he didn’t. He cut into Carl’s shirt and tore it open. Carl tried to stop himself to panicking. Pete was going to beat him up, and attempt to murder him. He was not going to be raped. He was not.

Pete cut from the front to the back, revealing the top held of his torse and let the holster hidden. Suddenly, his eyes widened, as if in glee.

“Well… look at that. Does your dad know about this?”

The question caught Carl off-guard. The blade dragged against his skin, and stopped at a patch of yellowish-green skin. It was almost gone. Just another day or two.

“Or better yet, did your dad do this?”

Pete’s grin widened, and Carl tried to shake his head, but his hair was grabbed.

“God damn, I thought me beating my own kid was bad.” Carl’s eyes widened. “But look at that. Rick whored his own son.” Pete chuckled. “Maybe I’ll give it a try.” He touched Carl’s neck with the back of his hand. “But for now…” Pete dropped Carl to the floor.

The first swipe of the belt came as a surprise, going right across his breastbone. It hurt. It hurt like hell.

Once he got started, he didn’t stop, and Carl wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. The leather came down over and over until the whole from of his body hurt. He could vaguely hear the clang of metal from the belt but he only realised what happened when he felt it. The heavy belt buckle smacked against his shoulder. It hurt bad, like his bone had cracked. His movements became even more frantic. He was caught between rolling on his back to hide what he was doing from Pete’s view, and hiding his exposed front from Pete’s abuse.

He struggled harder, and there was a second smack, this time on his clothed stomach, covered by another layer of holster. Pete didn’t notice anything amiss. Carl grabbed a hold of his dagger and sliced through the ropes tying his wrist as the next smack got him on his ribs with the same crack sound. Pete seemed so delighted by the sound. He turned his back for his beer glass, tipping his head back for another few sips. Carl cut himself completely loose as quick as he could, and slammed the back of the dagger against Pete’s head as hard as he could. The man fell to the ground and the beer glass was shattered.

Pete groaned, then passed out.

Carl picked himself up and trudged out of the front door. The cold night air hit him. Instead of relief, he shivered from the exhaustion and the cold. He limped to the pavement, looking around to orient himself, and found that he was on the other side of the community. His dad’s location was between the two. Carl made his way back, going straight past the infirmary and heading towards his street, but he didn’t go home, but followed the street to Ron’s home.

He didn’t want to risk someone else besides Jessie opening the door, and entered through the unlocked back door. He made it up the stairs to where he knew Ron’s mom stayed and knocked lightly.

“Sam? Baby, is that you?”

Carl opened the door a smidge and whispered. “It’s me, Carl. I need help.” The door was immediately pulled open and Jessie was holding a baseball bat.

She gasped, “Oh my god!”

A door behind Carl opened, and Ron walked out, sleep still clung to him but his eyes widened at the state Carl was in.

“You need to go to the infirmary!” Jessie tried to herd him downstairs and he allowed it, only because he couldn’t struggle without his shoulder blazing in pain. “No! You can’t! If my dad finds out, or anyone from my group, they’re going to murder…”

Jessie ‘s face fell. “Did- did Pete do this?”

Carl nodded, not daring to meet anyone’s eye. “If you want your husband to live, you need to fix me up, quietly. What do you do when he beats Ron?” Jessie was rendered speechless, tears in her eyes. Carl couldn’t take back what he said, but he did regret how he said it.

“Ron…” Ron ran off and out of the house before Jessie could speak.

“Carl. I appreciate what you are doing for us. You are very brave, thank you. But you need to tell someone. We’ll go to the infirmary together, and we’ll figure something out, okay? You’re in really bad shape. I don’t think he had ever lain such a heavy hand before.”

That was probably because they were his wife and child, and he was the son of the man who was supposedly getting it on with his wife. He hadn’t even mentioned that Pete’s original intention was to kill him and maybe rape him what he’s at it.

Jessie supported him while he limped there. Denise was not in, but someone is, and Jessie asked her to get Denise for them. There were only four rooms in the infirmary, and Carl went into the one furthest from his dad’s. Denise appeared even before he got settled in, and asked Jessie to wait outside while she examined him.

“How did this happen, Carl? And in the middle of the night? Were you attacked?”

“I can’t say.” Denise stared at him, realisation dawned on her. “That’s Jessie out there. There have been word that Pete beats her and Ron at home, is that true? Did he-“

“You can’t tell other people. My dad will kill him. You have to keep this quiet, at least for now.”

“Carl, you have bruised ribs and shoulder, thank god there’s no fractures, which could between 2 to 4 weeks to fully heal, judging by your severity. You’re not going to be able to move around very much for the next week or so. And with a sling on, how are you going to hide this from anyone? Carl, I have my principles. I can’t lie about this. I’m sorry.”

She’s right. It was too big to hide. Even if both Jessie and Denise could keep it hidden, someone was sure to find out. He’s lucky the group haven’t already heard about what the Claimers did, given how close they all were. The thing was, he’s not protecting Pete, or Ron, or even Jessie. He was protecting his dad. He couldn’t chance his dad doing anything that might be seen as dangerous until the meeting tomorrow night.

“Then just for tomorrow. Just until after the general meeting. And you can tell Michonne, just not dad.”

Denise considered it, and nodded her head, moving on with her examination. She didn’t notice the bruises the first time she looked, because it was overshadowed by the streaks of reddened skin, likely due to being whipped by a belt. Those bruises were oval in shape and very light in colour. Obviously not from that night. She reached her finger to check the tenderness, but Carl covered himself before she could, wordlessly.

Sunrise couldn’t come fast enough. Michonne was ashen when she was brought into the room where Carl lay. He had already fallen asleep, and Jessie watched over her. Rage burned in her chest at the thought of what Carl had to go through, and also guilt for the part she played in it, letting Carl go back alone. Carl was young, but he was also more mature than people gave him credit for. If Rick had known, Rick was bound to beat the son of a bitch to death, and that’s something they didn’t need right now.

Ron ran from home, as far as he could and as fast as he could. It was a nightmare. Of all the people to find out, it had to be Carl!

_“Enid! Wait up!” Ron chased after her to the edge of the community where the wall is. She brandished the first two steel pipes and stuck them through the wall column. “What do you want?”_

_“Why are you all so desperate to go outside? I don’t understand!”_

_“Then you never will. Carl had already put it perfectly, Ron. If you still don’t get it after that, then I have nothing to say.”_

_“Then bring me with you! Show me what I’m not getting.” Ron held Enid’s hand, only for her to brush his hand away._

_“We should break up.”_

_“What?”_

_“You heard me. You can’t understand my world, and I can’t live in yours. We shouldn’t date anymore.”_

_“We were together three months, and now Carl Grimes shows up, you want to break up with me?”_

_“This is between us, and I’m saying we don’t work. Go back, Ron. There’s nothing for you outside.” Enid started her climb and was gone in a few moments._

Ron ended up at the exact place Enid used to climb out. He looked around for the secret stash of pipes Enid kept around here, just in case she lost hers. There was another set just like this hidden on the other side of the wall. Ron did the same thing he had seen Enid do thousands of times, as the sky began to brighten. It was a far drop on the other side of the wall. He let go and fell on the ground, cushioned by the leaves. He looked around to make sure the other set of the pipes were where it was usually hidden, and they are.

He looked around fearfully, expecting danger to show itself. He only began to move once he realised the surroundings were empty. It was too risky to move far away, so he stayed close to the wall. After several minutes of walking around aimlessly, he tripped and fell over something heavy and soft.

**IT’S A WALKER!**

Ron tumbled and crawled away. He held his breath, afraid from the horror stories he heard about people screaming and leading walker straight to them.

Ron heaved. The walker… it was stabbed in the head. Through the eye, to be precise. Ron shakily walked over and pushed the walker with his foot, only releasing the breath once he confirmed that the walker was dead. He thought of Enid treks to the outside, going alone and fearlessly by herself. He thought of the years Carl spent on the outside while he was inside the safe-zone. He thought about the way Carl talked about his life on the inside as if it’s some sort of handicap.

Ron eyed a heavy rock just on the side, and carried it up. He kneeled next to the head of the zombie, and gathered his breath.

**You can do this. You can do this!**

He raised the stone up high and smashed it hard onto the head of the walker. The stone sank right throught the bones and brain matter, smashing it to mush. Ron fell back, and started to vomit.

**I did it… I…**

Instead of the sense of accomplishment he was expecting. All he felt was fear and disgust. This was the world now. Walkers walking around, rotting bodies and rotting minds, preying on human flesh. There probably was some right in the tummy of this one in front of him.

Ron dry-heaved, and stood up shakily.

He didn’t want to be out here anymore. He faced the direction he came from, but his heart raced in his chest. There was sounds coming from that location. Slow and uneven footsteps. Soft grunts.

Ron wanted to drop to the ground and cry. He was scared. He started to head sideways, hopefully along the perimeter such that he could just go around the walker and close in on the wall, then walk along the wall until he found where he came from.

However, the further he walked, the less familiar the surroundings was. The undergrowth was getting denser. On the bright side, the sky was nearing it’s brightest, which meant it was almost noon. He had absolutely no idea where he was right now.

**I might really die out here…**

Suddenly, the sound of groans could be heard. This time, they were louder and there were several, Ron turned in place and walked backwards, hoping to get away from whichever area he neared, but he was soon met with another echo of the moans. He couldn’t different exactly where they were coming from. He thought of just running for it, hoping he would get somewhere, when the sound of a gunshot rang out, followed by the sound of a body hitting ground.

He wanted to shout for help so badly, but the same thought sank into his brain. Maybe he shouldn’t…

Another shot rang out, and the thud of a body came from right behind him. He gasped at how close the walker had gotten without him knowing it. He turned around fast enough to notice another one rushing straight at him, and was put down by another gunshot. Blood sprayed over him. The bullet was coming from that direction! He made a run for it. The forest cleared faster than he had foreseen it – he reached the front gate of Alexandria.

 

Jessie hugged him and sobbed so hard against him. Sam watched fearfully. Ron realised his shirt was still bloody, as was his face. What he came back wearing not only scared his family, but everyone else in the community. He had barely spent half a day out there, and he had already looked pale as a ghost. He was given a thorough check up before being released him with his mom. She sobbed against him, harder and harder. Tears slid down his cheeks.

It was a girl named Sasha that saved him.

 

Carl woke up the next day after a good night’s sleep with the help of painkillers. The first person he saw was his dad. “Dad…” Carl rasped out, and Rick jerked to full wakedness.

“Hey, son.” Rick smoothed down Carl’s hair and kissed his forehead.

“What happened? How did it go last night?”

“Reg died.” Carl’s eyes widened. “D-did you-“

“No. It wasn’t me.” Rick continued caressing Carl. His baby boy had been through so much recently. When he had heard from Michonne what Carl tried to do for him, his heart almost broke into pieces. “Pete killed him. And Deanna asked me to execute Pete afterwards. I’m sorry, Carl. I’m sorry.”

Carl relaxed. That meant his dad would be fine, didn’t it. As long as his family could stay together, he was happy.

“Carl, I need to talk to you. What Pete did…did he?” There was murderous rage in his dad’s eyes, but they were drowned out by guilt. The caressing motion of his hand against his head was comforting enough for him to answer the question.

“He wasn’t going to, originally. He was going to beat me up, and kill me, I think.” Rick’s hand stilled, and his face clenched up like he wanted to tear into Pete’s neck too. “But then he say the bruise on my neck… He thought you put them there, and I think he might have wanted to try, but I got away before he was through with me.” His dad’s face shuttered and he buried it into Carl’s stomach. “I’m sorry, son. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay now.” Carl patted his dad’s hand that was resting on his waist. “Denise said my bruising aren’t too serious. I’ll be fine in about 3 weeks. Max.”

“And bed rest for 1 week.”

“No way.”

“Yes way. Do as the doctor say.” They shared the silence, Carl thinking of what he might have missed.

“How’s Jessie and Ron?”

His dad hesitated. “Yesterday, Ron climbed over the wall by himself. He’s not dead. He’s okay. Sasha shot the walkers that tried to get him. He’s lucky. He seemed to have gone as far as a mile away before rounding back and got made by Sasha. If she didn’t notice him, or if he was in denser woods, he might be dead already.”

Carl couldn’t believe Ron would just leave unarmed and alone like that. Was it what he said?

“Don’t blame yourself, Carl. He made his choices. It’s not your fault. These few days have been hard on him. You might want to keep your distance.”

Carl nodded. He might not exactly see any of them as his friend, but he did care about Ron.

They moved him back into his room that afternoon, and his dad spent the next two days by his side. He could guess his dad felt guilty for focusing so much attention on the Andersons, and Carl had suffered for him.

The first day was still bearable, but the next few were hard. He couldn’t imagine staying in bed for a whole week, he would rather have broken an arm, and still get to move around.

Finally, with Denise’ approval, his ribs and shoulder was bandaged and he was put in a sling. He could finally walk around two days before the quota. He mostly stayed home, playing with Judith, but he took walks occasionally too. Ron turned a blind eye to him everytime they met. He liked to think Ron didn’t completely hate him, that there was some way they could be friends again.

 

He started leaving the house more often after the week passed, and he could sense something big was happening to the community. After first he was happy that people were taking a more active stance to survive, but pretty soon, he realised it wasn’t that.

He came back home after watching a large group of about twenty men and women leave the enclosure each time to work on something, and his own family teaching people basic survival skills round the clock. He noticed two-men watches being posted round the clock and he noticed they were stocking up on food supplies.

This wasn’t the looks of surviving, this were the looks of battle.

Carl stared at the handgun firing session that was going on, which Ron was part of. Michonne came up to him, putting an arm around him on his uninjured side.

“What’s going on, Michonne? Something big’s happening, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Your father didn’t want to worry you early on.”

“Tell me.”

Michonne took a deep breath. “You know how Alexandria has been so cut off from the world, no walkers banging down their front doors, no herds passing through?”

“Yea?”

“There’s a very good reason for it. There’s a quarry in our backward. There used to be survivors there long time ago. As they died the noise they made drew walkers in, and they all get trapped down there. But the thing that is holding them in – two trucks at each of the two exits – run the risk of slipping any day. Which means the hundreds of walkers could be released to us at any one time.’

Carl looked horrified. “It’s a ticking time bomb.”

“Exactly. The plan right now, is to draw them out, on our terms, lead them far away from here.”

“Then the construction-“ “to prevent them from turning towards us.”

“The arms trainings-“ “to make sure we survive, even if things don’t work out.”

“How have they not known?”

“Ignorance. Your dad only found out about it because he had driven out to bury Pete, and Ron had followed him there.”

“Ron went outside the walls again?”

Michonne smirked at him. “He was following the truck. Wanted to see where his father would be buried. I don’t know what you said to him, but it’s effective as hell. He’s already been outside the  walls twice. Some of the adults here haven’t even stepped foot outside once.”

Carl’s face sank.

Her joke falls short. “Hey, it’s not your fault, haven’t we told you this already. He made his own choices. Did you know, he’s one of the first few to ask for lessons on gun handling? He started it all, Carl. Whatever you said it him, it got through. It made him want to get stronger, Carl, and that’s-“

“Not on me. You said it, he made his own choices. If the mistakes are not on me, then the credit isn’t either.” Michonne frowned, rendered speechless.

Carl turned his back and walked back home.

 

The meeting room filled up quickly. Deanna sat in an armchair, and their group in another larger one. Carl stood at the back with the other teens that took arms lessons. The was the closest he had been to Ron since the thing with Pete went down. Ron ignored him completely, and Enid was absent. There was only Mikey, and another two older boys apart from Ron and him, sans his sling.

Pieces of paper were laid out on the coffee table, and Rick explained the plans. People from their group, people they trusted took the most critical roles, including taking point and leading the convoy. Then there were support roles that follow the convoy on both sides of the forest and ensure no walkers strayed. However, their number were far from enough.

“So who’s in?” His father asked. One by one from their group volunteered, but the people from the community stayed silent. “We need more.” Rick restated.

“There’s got to be another play. We just can’t control that many.”

“I said it before, walkers herd up. They’ll follow a path if something’s drawing them. That’s how we can get them all at once.”

“So what? We’re just supposed to take your words for it? We’re all supposed to just fall in line behind you after…”

Ron jerked. People looked apologetically at Ron and the boy bowed his head. The room quietened, and the silence was deafening.

“I volunteer.” Carl’s voice was distinctive.

“Carl, you’re…” Rick gestured at his injuries.

“Gonna be fine by the time the day comes in 2 weeks. Might even be good for the dry run in 1 week.”

Ron’s face lifted, directed at him incredulously.

“So that’s it?” Carl sneered mockingly. “I see it now. So it’s basically just our people sticking their necks out for the rest of you, is that right?” No one stopped him from saying his piece, not even his dad, not even Michonne.

“Let me remind you. If this fails, it fails on all of us. The moment that herd of walkers turn towards us, we’re all sitting duck. Not one of your wives, your children or your friends will survive this. And you know what, we thankful. We’re thankful that the load of you trust us so much to put the fates of your whole community, all your cars, all your guns in our hands. Let me just promise you right now, we will do our absolute best to save the rest of you cowards without no regards to ourselves. I hope all of you sleep soundly tonight.”

Some of them was looking at him, surprised at the amount of resolve in his voice. Some of them were horrified, that such a threat came from the mouth of a shy fifteen-year-old. But most of them had looks of realisation of what a big risk they were taking by leaving it all in their hands.

Sometimes, one reason to protect one’s own interests is more effective than a hundred to protect someone else’s. It’s just one of the many lessons he learnt outside these walls regarding human nature.

After that, hands rose one by one until they had enough.

The meeting adjourned. Carl was accompanied home but at their doorsteps, Ron and Mikey stood.

“Can we speak with Carl, please?” Mikey said. Michonne looked at him questioningly, and only let him leave with them with his agreement. Carl followed them to Ron’s room, where Enid was already there.

“Are you crazy?” Mikey clasped his hands over his head. “What is wrong with you? Do you have a death wish?”

“Why did you call me here?”

Mikey was momentarily stunned. “What do you mean why did we call you here? We want to talk to you!”

Carl sighed. He had long accepted that they were form different worlds. “They needed people. I can help, what more do you need?”

“You’re fifteen.” Mikey gasped. “It doesn’t have to be you. Adults have died out there-“

“And we’re going to stop more from dying. Doesn’t matter if I’m fifteen or thirty. I’m able.” Enid stood up and slapped him across the cheek. Carl would expect Ron to look smug, but he looked more surprised than the rest of them.

Carl’s fasts clenched. “What is wrong with you, Enid? What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing.”

“How can I do nothing and make you hate me?” Carl was close to losing his own temper.

“Because you don’t get it! Any of it! I watched my parents die. I was left alone. By myself! For monthes…” Enid’s clenched her jaws, but the sobs kept coming.

“I couldn’t fight, couldn’t do anything but run and hide, like how I hid in the car while my parents were eaten right next to me, and you… After everything, you still get to have everything I don’t, it’s not fair… You have your family and your group. You’ve always had people to rely on, people that taught you to fight and survive. We share the same fate, we’re not like any of the people here. We are both from the tougher world out there, but why do you get to have it all?”

Carl remained expressionless. Did he? Did he have it all? He supposed if Enid put it like that, then he did. Everything he knew, he learnt from his dad, from Daryl, from Michonne, from Hershel, and so many more people. But he also lost more. He’s killed people, killed walkers, and lost almost everything important to him except for this group of people, and everyday, he’s still losing more.

He didn’t have a reply for Enid. It’s her own issue to sort out, now wasn’t it? Carl turned around and prepared to leave, but he couldn’t help but remark coldly. “What about you? What do you have to blame me for?” Ron’s face scrunched up. “Everything.”

Something ached fiercely in his chest. Carl walked away. **Just walk away. Because some people, are just beyond saving. Some people, you can’t change who they are.**

He hadn’t felt so lonely in such a long time.

 

Ron walked Carl leave, suddenly feeling very tired.

“Man, he is one stubborn dude.” Mikey commented, and ignored everything he and Enid had said about themselves ignorantly. Enid didn’t even stay a moment after Carl, and for the first time, Ron didn’t want to chase after her.

He should feel happier about this, shouldn’t he? He had thought Carl was the one who stole Enid from him, but as it turned out, it was just him. It was always him. He thought back to Carl’s painfully maintained poker face that hid all his feelings inside. How dare he? How dare he, that after his appearance had stolen everything from him, he still had the right to make Ron feel guilty without even trying? **Everything, huh.** Ron’s not sure he could make himself believe that.

He had blamed the Grimes for how his family fell apart, for his dad’s death, and for Enid so long… he knew better, but he didn’t know how to stop anymore. Because if he admitted how wrong that was, then what else did he have left? Why did Carl Grimes ever have to appear in his life? Why did he have to show up with his pretty face, badass skills and independent spirit, standing apart from the rest of them and make them look like incompetent fools. Why couldn’t he have been just another normal kid that was grateful just to get another chance to play video games, to forget about the harsh world outside, to stay in these safe walls, and _never leave_?

“Hey, man. You doing okay?”

Ron nodded. “Just thinking.”

“That’s alright and all, but don’t you want to go after Enid? You won’t get her back again if you don’t.”

Oh that’s right. His girlfriend… Strange how he felt nothing for her the moment he chose to let her go. Did he ever like her, or was he only attached to the idea of her?

“You know what, I’m just going to check on her.” Mikey offered. Enid was after all, the only girl their age in the enclosure. Any guy would keep a close eye on her. The idea of Mikey going after her didn’t bother him as much as it did an hour earlier, when all he could think about was that Carl had stolen his _girlfriend_. Now, it was just _Enid_. It really had all been about Carl Grimes hadn’t it. Carl owed him too much, and with Carl gone, his dad – the murderer of his dad – would suffer. Every link converged with Carl.

Ron fingered the handgun in his pocket, realising that the time had come for him to end it all.

The next afternoon, he stole bullets from the armoury by distracting Olivia with toppled things. Carl didn’t leave his home very often anymore, due to his injuries. Ron wanted to catch him alone, where no one would be there to help him, and no one would know it’s him. Outside would be perfect, but Carl wasn’t allowed to go outside. The perfect opportunity came on the day most of the people close to him had left the zone to do a dry run. The others from his group were all keeping guard on the walls, Rick’s idea. Carl was alone and vulnerable. This was the day.

Ron waited outside his house since the morning. He just needed one shot, just one moment of him outside the empty house. His wish came true when close to noon, Carl left the house. Ron followed behind the boy, down the street, making sure nobody was nearby or watching. He took aim, and pulled the trigger, aimed at Carl. The sound of a loud bang filled the air, and his shot not only missed, but was seen by Carl. Dread pooled in his body, and he quickly hid himself before Carl saw him.

He was preoccupied with running away from Carl, and was running straight for the source of the gunshots and further away from home. Screams erupted around him. Armed attackers poured in from the broken barricade, and started killing anyone they saw. Ron’s legs shook. One of them took notice of him, and Ron started to run, and dove into an open house to hide. He ran randomly into an open room and hid in the closet inside. He held his breath, and hoped everything would be okay.

Carl could hardly run, and he certainly wasn’t cleared to use any heavy guns, but it was the best bet at keeping Judith safe. He closed and locked all windows and doors in the home, hid the keys in the fridge, and set himself down in the living room, eyes peeled on all exits. Anyone comes in, they’re gonna have to kill him first.

Everything was pretty quiet on his end, and he crept closer to the window with the blinds pulled. The armed men were mostly killing people on the streets for now, but he knew they were just clearing out the streets before targeting the houses one by one. But it wasn’t as if they were a buffet to the men. People were fighting back. He took aim on his rifle, and shot down anyone further away form him if they didn’t have any friends nearby. He didn’t want to risk them targeting his house first.

A muted clang sounded from the back door. It sent liquid fear through his veins.

Carl readied himself, and proceeded to the back carefully. The house was plenty silent, but he knew what he heard.

Upon reaching the back door, still locked, he pulled the door open and aimed the gun at chest level, which happened to go up to Enid’s head.

Carl tsked, and pulled the girl in.

“What are you doing out now?”

Enid swallowed nervously. “I wanted to apologise. What everything I said that day.”

“Apology accepted, now go upstairs.”

“What?”

“It’s dangerous down here, go upstairs and don’t come down no matter what you hear. You hear any trouble, jump out the second floor window.”

“I’m not going upstairs to hide. I’m leaving.”

Carl grabbed Enid. “What? Leaving? As in leaving the safe-zone?”

“Yes.”

“What about Ron? Isn’t he your-”

“No, we broke up like, a week ago. He didn’t tell you?”

Carl was very confused. “Why would he tell me anything? Anyway, I don’t care, you need to go upstairs. You’re going to be an easy target out there.”

Enid dropped her backpack. “Fine, then I’m staying down here.” She settled down in the corner of the kitchen. Carl figured it was as good a place as any. If he died, then it’s not going to make a difference where she hides anyway.

Carl was on high alert, eyes peeled, and he heard a familiar voice in the backyard.

Ron.

 

They found him. The guy marched him out onto the street but he took off the first chance he had. Only place he knew he would be safe would be at the Grimes. He ran in that direction, but was cornered by two men just outside Carl’s backyard. He had both guns pointed at him, ready to fire, but the heads of both men popped one by one. Carl stood on his porch, waving him in frantically, and Enid was just behind him. The hatred in his veins flowed again. Which was weird. He was over her a week ago. He watched her run out and didn’t even feel any remorse over not chasing her. He didn’t worry about not getting to kiss he anymore. Most of the things connected to her lost their meaning. Didn’t they?

Ron ran towards them and they piled into the house. Carl locked the door, but it wasn’t enough. “Help me move this couch!”

The door was blocked off with their teamwork.

Ron and Enid stayed covered behind the kitchen counters. The sound of cries came from upstairs and they both gaped.

“Judith is here?”

“Yes, I am watching her today.”

“Is she going to stop?” Ron panicked. The baby cries were bound to draw attention. “Enid, here’s the key. I need you to go make sure she’s okay. I’ll watch the doors down here.” He reached into the fridge and threw the keys to Enid. “Don’t come down here unless you have to! Ron, you wanna go with her?”

“No, I’ll help you watch the doors. He pulled out his gun.”

“Thanks.” Carl smiled at Ron.

Ron faltered.

The fights must have gone on for another half an hour, then everything died down.

“You think it’s over?” Ron asked. Carl moved slowly to the front to take a look.

“Your guess is as good as mine. There’s no one out there.” Carl kneeled down behind the couch, leaning into his rifle and taking aim outside.

Ron stalked to his back, and raised his handgun at the person he’s wanted to kill for days. Something in his chest squeezed painfully. This must be excitement. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, another pair of eyes bore into him. Enid stood at the top of the stairs watching him, mouth agape and fear clouding her vision. By the time Ron turned back, Carl’s rifle was aimed at him.

“Drop the gun, Ron.” His voice was harder and coarser than usual. Ron’s hand wavered. He was aimed at Carl’s head, but Carl’s was aimed at his chest. He still had a chance. Shoot him before he could fire back. Carl’s greatest mistake had to be that. That left such a bitter taste in his mouth. He was not an idiot. If Carl ever wanted to shoot him, he would already be dead. How pathetic must he be to Carl, that the person he wanted to kill so badly, was someone who didn’t want to kill him, even when held at gunpoint.

“Put it down, Ron.” Ron’s hand loosened on the grip. Carl won. His perfect charming self won. Took everything from Ron, even this.

Ron put his handgun on the floor, and Carl came forward to kick it elsewhere. He kept his rifle aimed at Ron’s body, and a cold spasm gripped him. Could it be…

“Carl?” Enid asked.

“I’m in bad shape. If he’s going to fight me and snatch back the guns, I’m not going to win. Judith is just upstairs and we don’t know who’s still out there. I can’t take the chance.”

Enid nodded understandingly.

“Then this is goodbye.”

“It’s not safe.”

“It’s as safe as it can get… Goodbye, Carl. Goodbye, Ron.” Enid kissed him on the cheek, and left. None of them moved for the next hour, until someone knocked on the front door. Then, Carl lowered his rifle.

“Go home, Ron.” Ron was momentarily lost. Then he made his way to the front door with his handgun. “Ron…”

He turned back.

“That’s twice today… I let you go for Jessie, and then for Sam. This your very last chance.”

Ron’s body felt like it was going to bowl over from the pain. It’s hatred, he told himself. It’s bone deep hatred. Even if it’s not.

 

The mission failed. Half of the walkers from that quarry were at their doorstep, not there was nothing they could do about it, except to kill them all. The consensus was to wait it out, wait for them to be attracted and lured away by other things, maybe get out there to lure them away with the same plan. After all, everything was readied outside, with their cars and guns and everything.

Most people were preoccupied with enhancing their defences and investigating the group of people that had attacked them.

Carl had mostly recovered, and was now assisting in the defense or training lessons. The community suffered a loss on the scale none of them had ever anticipated, and that took a lot out of them. They were unaccustomed to death, to battle, to almost everything else, but slowly, they were starting to learn.

For what it’s worth, Ron stopped spying on him and stalking him now. Carl had found him the first few times Ron did, and each time Carl didn’t stop Ron, Ron didn’t take his shot, not even when he had the chance to. He knew Ron never wanted to hurt him, that was why it’s so hard for Ron to pu;; that trigger. The shot on the streets that day was a surprise to Carl. Maybe Ron had reached his limits. Maybe he found the reason that gave him strength through this. Maybe he finally hated Carl so badly he needed to die.

Ron might be able to hate him to that extend, but Carl could not. Ron was his first friend in years, and yes, Carl admitted that they were friends. Why else would he put up with Ron’s attempts to kill him and not fight back, if Carl didn’t see him as a friend already? Close to three weeks ago, Ron once said that they were friends, and Carl didn’t think they were, because he thought that friendship is not an easy word to throw around. Because if he were to ask how far Ron would be willing to go for Carl, the answer would probably be ‘nil’. But he was wrong. Whether someone was his friend was not measured by how far the other person would go for him, but how far he was willing to go for the other person. He might not be Ron’s friend, but Ron was his friend.

 

 He was close-by the day it happened.

The day it fell.

They crowded into Jessie’s home, Rick, Michonne and Carl. Without only the bare minimum of weapons, there was no hope to fire their way through anywhere else. Rick got the adults to push furniture up against the doors, and Carl got them to gather all the bedsheets they could find. As long as the walkers didn’t know they were in, they would be safe.

The house had remained quiet for a while. Carl hummed his sister to sleep after she was fed some food. Judith was their godsend. She was the most beautiful thing in Carl’s life, and if he could watch her grow up, it would be his greatest wish. Or if he were to die early, then may this beautiful baby girl grow up into a strong and happy woman, even without him beside her. He rocked for a few minutes more, and bent over to lay her onto Jessie’s bed.

He had to go check on things. With his dad taking care of Deanna and Jessie, Ron and Sam became his responsibility, but it was hard to leave Judith, as always. She’s a charmer.

He lay another kiss to her forehead then left the room. The house was silent as it should be, but from the stairs, he could see the door to the garage was open.

He slowly walked towards it, and realised it was only Ron in there. He didn’t know if he should approach Ron, but he looked like he needed someone. Even if he were to scold Carl, at least he’d have an outlet.

“Hey. You alright, man?” Carl stopped six feet away from Ron.

“Enid’s dead. We’re all dead.” Ron muttered.

“Look, my dad’s gonna figure something out.” That’s how they’re always managed. They were cornered, find a new way out. It never ends until the moment you give up. “He always does.”

“That’s bullshit.” Ron’s chest heaved with anger. He turned around and glared hatefully. “Your dad’s just gonna get more people killed. ‘Cause that’s what he does. That’s who he is. You’re dad’s a killer.”

“So was yours.” Carl gave Ron his time. Cry. Scream. Blame him. “We need to work this out.” If Ron don’t find an outlet soon, Carl knew something bad would happen. But Ron didn’t give him a chance.

“I’m dead, Carl. My mom is dead. My brother is-”

“No they’re not. We’re gonna make it.” Carl wanted to grab Ron and shake him until he got a grip, but Ron walked right past him. Carl thought he was going to leave the garage, but then the lock clicked.

“Your dad… You’re… Dead… Too…” Something inside Carl screamed danger. He slammed into Ron just as he got the gun out, and they both tumbled onto the ground. Ron grabbed a shovel within reach and whacked towards him, the swing taking out the glass on the garage door. Ron pushed Carl against the door. Carl pushed back just as when the walkers reached the door. The walkers pushed against the door one by one, and the whole thing fell apart just as his dad got the inside door open.

After that, every muscle went into keeping the doors closed and blocked.

“What happened in there?” Something twisted in his abdomen. He had promised himself, and promised Ron that this was the last chance, and Ron just blew it, but what came out of his mouth was, “We were looking for tools and knocked over a shelf.” A smooth lie he didn’t even take a second to think of, he didn’t even blink when telling it to the most trusted person in his life.

“We heard yelling.”

Carl answered Jessie. “Yeah Ron saw them break through the gates. We had to move.”

Ron went along, if only because his mind went blank. There it is. This gutted feeling. Carl covered for him, again. Ron considered shooting himself just to end this cat and mouse of theirs.

“Carl, there’s a nightstand in my mom’s room. We can brace the couch with them.”

“It sounded like you were fighting.” “Yeah, mom, we were fighting them.” Ron backed away and headed up.

“Carl? It’s okay?” The way his dad uttered his name was full of love. It made carl feel like a monster to play with his own life like that. His father had gone through hell and back to keep him alive. What right did he have to let Ron have one chance after another to kill him? His father’s eyes caught his. Carl couldn’t lie to his dad. Carl wasn’t even a liar in the first place, but the lie just came out so smoothly from someplace inside him he didn’t even know about. _Tell him the truth. Tell him Ron tried to kill you. Tell him it’s not okay._

“It’s okay.”

 

Ron panted. Shadows of grasping hands outside the window cast horrible shadows over the room.

Ron heard him come in. “Listen I, uh…”

“Hand me the gun, grip first.” Ron turned back, only to be faced with Carl’s gun. The muzzle was aimed at his head this time, and he wasn’t holding back.

So this was it, huh? The day Carl was sick of trusting him, again, and again, only to have him spit it back out on his face.

“Carl, I’m sorry.” He spoke on auto pilot. And Carl did the same, “Yeah, I know.”

Because nothing mattered between them anymore. They were at the end of the line.

“Now give me the gun.”

Ron stared. Something in his mind fuzzed out, and hairs on his arms stood. Carl’s eyes were looking at him intensely. More intensely than any of the times they had confronted him, and it was staring unwaveringly only at _him_. Carl’s voice wasn’t cold, not at all.

But it was serious. He was done with playing, too. Ron hesitated, and handed over the gun.

The instant Carl got the gun, he lowered his own. Ron could still fight for it. He could still kill Carl, if he tried. But he couldn’t anymore. Why?

Carl was sweating, and grinning despairingly. He never thought such an expression existed, until he saw it on Carl.

“Look man, I get it. My dad killed your dad,” Yes, he did… yes, he did. Tears streamed down Ron’s cheeks. “But you need to know something, your dad was an asshole.”

Ron sobbed. The image of Carl, in that moment, was etched firmly into his mind. This was his penance, to always have to live with those gaze, to know he did Carl wrong over and over again, and he still found it in his heart to forgive Ron.

But Ron could feel it. His time with Carl time was drawing close.

He rubbed walker guts onto the bedsheets worn on his body, acting mindlessly, eyes staring at Carl in front of him. He stared as Carl grabbed extra weapons and inserted them into the hidden holster at Carl’s waist (his action of pulling his shirt up revealed his slim waist and an enticing patch of skin above the holster, where a yellowish bruise sat). He stared as Carl looked to his dad to ask about the plan. He stared as Carl picked up his baby sister with the utmost care, gingerly keeping her close to his chest underneath the disgusting sheets.

Carl felt his gaze, and glared.

They walked out onto the porch, Ron’s brain function already shutting down from immense fear. All he could do was cling on to Sam’s hand in front of him. Time was running out. Hope was burning dim. He’s not going to be the one who lives, between him and Carl. And that’s okay. The thought filled him with more comfort than anything for the last few weeks. He couldn’t explain why, but did that really matter anymore. He was going to die. Carl’s back remained in his sights, the familiar silhouette of the sheriff’s hat, and his curly long hair.

Ron thought of that image of Carl’s despairing smile, and thought he could hold on to that until his last moments.

They made their way through the crowd steadily, Ron already zoning out. They must have stopped somewhere for a while, then they kept going.

Sam started to whimper, and then silently sobbed. Ron was no help. He had already given up. When a walker reached over and bit at Sam, Ron only watched. He felt the pain in his heart, watching his brother, then his mother get eaten, but he couldn’t move. Then he saw the gun Carl dropped, and he could move again. Between the two of them, Carl was going to live. He had already accepted that. Maybe he even wanted that.

Carl stared at him, horrified, but it wasn’t that, that he was seeing. It was still that image from earlier that day.

Carl had already given him too many chances he didn’t deserve. He given too much since meeting him.

Ron aimed the gun over Carl’s shoulder at Rick Grimes.

He fired. The loud bang echoed, and a body dropped. And he realised he was meeting eyes with Carl’s dad, but Carl…

Pain had haunted him on and off for the past few weeks, but this was the first time it was like this – earth shattering.

Carl fell to the ground, bleeding from the left eye, the whole socket destroyed and bursting with blood and torn tissues. Carl was unconscious, moaning from pain.

He’d shot Carl. He had finally shot Carl.

Ron cried, and dropped the hand that was still raised.

“No… Carl…” Carl didn’t live… He did?

There was still a way out of this. A way to stop all the pain.

He raised the hand holding the gun, and pointed it at his own head. He took one last look at Carl, and pulled the trigger.

The shot rang towards the sky instead.

A sharp pain cut through his consciousness. He had never experienced pain as harsh as this, cutting through to his bones and rendering him breathless. He screamed.

Michonne pulled the sword out of his arm. She had stabbed him to stop him from shooting himself, but couldn’t get to him in time. She cut down the walkers that gathered around them as Ron screamed from pain.

“Get moving!” Rick picked up Carl and Michonne dragged him by the hair, gun confiscated.

The rest of the night was spent in a half-conscious state.

While Carl died next to him, Ron sat bleeding and losing his grip on reality. Carl’s dad had gone out fighting since so long ago, leaving Ron the only person except for the doctor. Carl lay on the table like a corpse. Ron reached his hand forward to hold Carl’s hand, only for Denise to glare at him and push him away.

Ron thought back to the times he had spent with Carl. Playing games, just chatting, learning about him, then killing him.

The anger he felt everytime he saw Carl and Enid together. The hatred he felt with everything he noticed from Carl, that put Carl so high above him until he was unreachable. The pain he felt with every circumstance that made Carl the enemy when all he wanted to do was get closer to the kind boy.

This heartache… could it be? Could he have been turning a blind eye to it all this time just so he could live with himself?

Ignoring his feelings for the boy by telling himself they were murderers. They destroyed everything. They were to blame. Even though in reality, nothing was on them.

This all happened because he was weak, didn’t it? Carl was right. He was weak. He couldn’t face the truth. He blamed others so he felt better. And he killed others to compensate. He killed someone he had feelings for, several times, for a delusion.

He was the one, who was a monster.

 

Alexandria was rebuilt. The walls were patched up. They had a solid training and patrol schedule now. And they got Carl back. Many people lost their families in the last fight. Some lost children, some lost parents and some lost spouses. There were honest discussions for each and every orphaned child below eighteen years of age, to find them the best family. Ron was one of them, or so Carl heard. He had yet to see Ron at all since he woke up. From what everyone else said, Ron tried to commit suicide after shooting Carl by accident.

But the several attempts on his life in the past that came to light, meaning his father would never forgive Ron for what he’s done. Many of his old group were angry on his behalf, but he didn’t let them. He couldn’t let them. If he did, when will they draw the line.

He held a tennis ball in his left hand and sat on the bed, thinking it over. He held the tennis ball up to eye level. It was instinctively matched up to his right eye, instead of his left. He turned his head right and shifted his hand left so the ball was in front of his left eye instead.

 **Get used to it.** He sighed. **The sooner I do, the better.**

He threw it towards the wall opposite him with a dartboard hung up, and let the ball bounce back. He threw it again. And again. Suppressing the urge to bring the ball to his right eye was harder than it sounded like when Denise taught him to do this. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. Being able to shoot was important to him.

“Carl?” Michonne’s voice called out from the next room.

“What? Denise says it’s PT.”

“I can’t hear you. Come on out.”

“Denise says it’s PT.” Carl repeated as he walked up to them. Michonne looked… kind of ridiculous. But it’s fun, and Carl kind of likes it. Feels more like home this way. Both of them sing-songed “Denise says it’s PT with him.”

Carl chuckled lightly. “You heard me.”

Then Michonne asked for toothpaste. Again.

“Okay, but I'm out of toothpaste.” Michonne rolled her eyes at him. Carl walked off amused, leaving those two to their weird flirting.

He continued practising for another bit, then got out of bed to throw some darts. Darts were harder. The swing had to be larger than throwing a ball. When he used his right eye to aim, it was simple to pull it back to the side of his head to release. Aiming out of his left eye with a right hand made that impossible, no matter how far he turned his head. The dart landed on the left to the dartboard again and again. His breathing quickened until he couldn’t anymore. Panic was only ever going to make it harder for him.

Carl figured he needed a breather. He put his holster back on his waist and the dagger and gun in. Might as well check out how’s the community doing. His dad once told him that what he thought, was wrong. He had thought the community was weak because they had a soft heart. They couldn’t face the cruelty of the world outside, and that they were doomed to fall. But that night when it comes down to it, people still came out of their safe homes to take the final stand. It meant that none of them were beyond saving. They could change. They did change.

And change happened.

The streets were almost always busy nowadays. They had a gun range set up close to the centre of the community which was almost always occupied. More people volunteered for runs. They weren’t ready yet, but soon, they will be. Most of them accepted his dad’s decision making now, and if they didn’t, it’s not personal. He’s seeing some form of the prison community come back to life, only this time, everyone was not farming, but fighting.

It was dangerous for him alone, that he was starting to love this place.

He was just strolling about when he saw him. Ron.

He was just heading out of the gun range, and they met eyes. Ron looked different from he remembered. Mostly the same, but the dead-eyes were gone. Carl had hoped that the grudges between them would be gone too, but he supposed not. Ron turn around without even acknowledging him. And Carl wasn’t too disappointed. Friendships soured all the time, didn’t it? He had a closed up view when his dad’s friendship with Shane was lost, so he shouldn’t be too upset over it.

Carl walked past the range and did a stroll around the perimeter before coming back to mess with his ball and darts.

That night, he caught a stranger sitting on their staircase, and found out his dad had actually been sleeping with Michonne. That was a surprise, even though he had been kind of waiting for it. When the surprise came off, Carl hadn’t felt so hopeful and happy for weeks. He kept up a judging and neutral face just to make them uncomfortable, especially Michonne. She had been his best friend for a long time, and he’s glad that she found some happiness. If it must be with his dad, then that’s fine. They wouldn’t treat each other differently anyway. Carl was sure of it.

With the appearance of that man, came the news that there were other settlements, not just this one. His dad didn’t show it, but Carl knew he was really happy about it. Getting a trade system up and running, sharing supplies, it was bound to make every one of them feel more human than they had for a long time. Carl didn’t know how to feel about it, except that he was a liability right now. He could barely aim a gun, and his body was still slightly weak from all the bedrest. The months on the road might have starved him, but it was also the time his body was at prime condition for survival. He didn’t want to go with them now, only to drag them down if something did happen.

When his dad asked his about it, that was the respond he meant to give. But that time with Ron should be the last time he lied to his dad. He didn’t want to keep anything from someone so dear to him, so he spoke the truth, that he wasn’t ready to go out there yet. Not while looking like this. Not while he was basically handicapped. Not while he couldn’t get use to seeing himself in the mirror yet.

The way he phrased it, was another matter entirely. “Someone's gotta stay back, keep this place safe. A kid with a messed-up face probably wouldn't make the best first impression anyway.”

His dad’s heartbroken expression made him want to take back everything he said. And apologise. But he stopped himself. The only apology worthed a damn was for him to get his act together and stop pitying himself.

His dad handed Judith over. “Then I’m trusting her, and this whole place, with you.”

Carl took Judith from his arms. “I know. And I will keep them safe.”

He hugged Judith to his chest, and lay a loud kiss on her head, just to say he’s sorry about making her hear her older brother sound like that.

 

In the coming days, he found out that carrying a baby was probably the best exercise he could ask for without a gym. He brought Judith along every morning for a two-hour walk, even broke into a run sometimes.

He evened out his breath, and fired. Five metres away, the empty can was knocked back with a loud clang, and Carl smiled.

His bandages were no longer stained with blood, and he felt no pinch when he moved around anymore. The bruises on his body had completely disappeared.

On a breezy day, his dad came back from their mission to get rid of the Saviors. He had a large smile on his face, so that must have gone well. Carol and Maggie looked roughed up though. He handed Judith over to his dad like how he always did at the prison, as a sort of welcome home tradition.

Rick looked at him son, and sensed something. Hope flared in his chest. He laid a heavy palm on Carl, and brought him into a hug. “’Chonne, come ‘ere.”

Michonne eyed them, looking amused but was internally happy enough to hug them forever.

It felt like things would be alright again, until it wasn’t. Maggie’s stomach hurt, a lot, and they were ready to get her to Hilltop immediately. Carl ran to the armoury to pack them firearms, but walked into Ron, Enid and Mikey there together. He hadn’t known that they still talked. They were laughing before he ran in, just looking at the handguns and choosing for themselves, then stared at Carl who just barged in like he’d seen a walker.

“Excuse me.” Carl walked between Mikey and Enid and started picking up a variety of guns, doing a count under his breath to make sure everyone in the group had one, and then some.

“What’s going on?” Enid asked.

“Something happened, with Maggie. We’re getting her to Hilltop. Right now.” He moved on to the ammo. Sticking a clip into his pants pocket directly.”

“Wait! Do you have enough people? You need help?”

“No it’s alright.”

Carl ran out without looking at them.

 

The ride was quiet save for Maggie’s laboured breathing and pained moans. Glenn looked to be going out of his mind. Carl tried to help wherever his could, delivering some water and he could see Maggie giving grateful looks each time. This trip was impromptu even for them, so logically there shouldn’t have been any ambush. There simply shouldn’t be, unless the Saviors had been waiting for them to head to hilltop, and everything was already in place.

Something bad settled in his gut. This felt exactly like the time in Terminus. The enemy was completely prepared for them, for their every response. No matter how they thought they were getting away, they were only going deeper into the trap. It started with a bunch of men blocking the road, then another. They backed way both times, and on another smaller route, a string of zombies were strung up in front of them, and gunmen fired at the ground from both sides of the forest line. Like at Terminus. They were expecting them and herding them in the direction they wanted.

Carl pulled his gun and fired back, giving his dad some cover while he broke the walker chain.

The trap clicked shut further up the road. There were only a handful of men on the first road they backed away from, only for them to drive up to the second one with over ten, then to the last one with at least thirty. The Saviors had predicted the path they would take, and all their alternatives perfectly.

Maggie’s condition worsened on the way, and they were stopped at another blocked off road not by men, but a pile of burning logs.

Eugene gave them a chance at escaping the trap. They thought they could outsmart the Saviors with that. They had hoped.

But it all came to an end. Carl panted and looked on at their surroundings. They were surrounded by at least a hundred men. It was the largest group of men they had ever seen, and this was without the men from the outpost they had destroyed. It might not even the whole of what’s left of the whole group.

Maggie’s face was white as a sheet, gasping for breath.

They were all kneeled down, and they brought Glenn, Sasha, Daryl and Michonne in.

Carl could see his father trembling at the sight of Michonne. The Saviors stood around them like crowds to a good show.

He was occupied with worrying about his group, then a men stepped off an RV. He was tall, the sort that walked with the complete belief that he was admired and paid attention to. Carl saw him smirk from the shadows. “Pissin’ your pants yet?”

He started to stroll up to them, left hand gripping a baseball bat settled over his shoulder.

“Boy, do I have a feeling we’re getting close.” His smile showed teeth, and he looked absolutely ecstatic to see them.

The man walked around in the front, taking stock of them. Carl could hear him thinking ‘Asian guy, some girl, beat-up guy, black woman, some white guy, sickly girl, some other white guy, some other girl, yet another white guy and…’

His eyed met Carl’s and he stopped for a moment. The expression that came over his face was unreadable. He only considered Carl for a moment before addressing them all again, skipping over Abraham.

“Yep. It’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon.”

Carl didn’t want to give him the pleasure of being paid attention to, but he still involuntarily listened. The way the man spoke was… weird. He had never heard anyone talk that way. His dad spoke like he meant every word he said. Michonne talked like she either wanted to connect with you, or she didn’t care about you at all. Back in Alexandria, Ron talked like he cared about how you feel. Enid talked like nobody understood her, and she didn’t care if you did.

This man, he talked like he wanted to make you laugh, but sounded like he was mocking you.

“Which one of you pricks is the leader?”

Carl thought he was going to punch his dad, the way he was walking towards them. Carl’s attention was drawn to the baseball bat. It was fixed up with barbed wires.

“Rick, right? I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also when I sent my people, to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool. Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly.” He ginned, as if he knew something they didn’t. “Yeah, you are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes. Yes, you are.”

Carl’s heart stopped. “You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what, you don't mess with the new world order. And the new world order is this, and it's really very simple. So, even if you're stupid, which you very may well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes. Pay attention. Give me your shit... or I will kill you.” Carl’s chest heaved. Something red hot churned in his chest, like molten steel. “Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That's your job. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly will.”

Carl turned away for the man, posturing in front of them, feeling like he was at the top of the world. Carl’s remaining eye wet. Something sore was going on under there, but no tear fell. He looked at the entourage of men watching them, feeding on their helplessness, drinking from their fear.

“You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact, you are pegged, more pegged if you don't do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. And if that's too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it'll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone knocks on your door...,” he chuckled, “you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us and we will knock it down. You understand?” He leaned into Carl’s dad’s face.

“What, no answer?” He backed away, feigning surprise. “You don't really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished, now, did you?” He sauntered towards Carl’s side of the line. “I don't want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now, can you? I'm not growing a garden. But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them. More than I'm comfortable with. And for that, for that you're gonna pay.” He stopped in front of Carl. He hated himself for it, but his throat closed up and he froze in fear. As a last act of rebellion against himself, he raised his head and looked at Negan, straight on. Negan just happened to look down at him as well, and he paused at Carl’s face while continuing to speak, looking like he wasn’t thinking about what he was saying.

“So, now... I'm gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you.”

Carl wasn’t the first one to break eye contact. Negan was.

“This... This is Lucille, and she is awesome. All this, all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor.”

“Huh.” He took notice of the handgun on the floor Carl surrendered. “Ugh, I gotta shave this shit.” He rubbed his fingerpads over his beard.

“You got one of our guns.” He squatted down to Carl’s eye level. Carl could hear people from their group inhaling sharply. “Whoa. Yeah. You got a lot of our guns.”

It felt as if he was no longer in his body anymore. His body was breaking down. Heartrate through the roof, palpitations making himself dizzy, but none of that reached him. He looked straight into Negan’s eye.

His dad didn’t bring him into this world to surrender, nor to beg at someone’s feet for mercy. His mom didn’t bring him into this world to give up his dignity. He didn’t do all the things he did, the things that left permanent scars in him, so he could sob at someone for sympathy.

Carl levelled his gaze at Negan, the fog in his mind clearing. So what if he died the next second? So what? He didn’t want to die yet. Nobody did. But he would, if he had to.

Negan returned the long look, not letting anything slip into his gaze. His smirk dropped for a second, and Carl thought he was done. But Negan regained the devil may care attitude.

“Shit, kid, lighten up. At least cry a little.” Negan sounded disappointed. No, he didn’t. The smile that crept onto his face, was kind of quiet. His focus was intense, but soft, and he leaned in for a closer look. Carl’s hardened face didn’t drop, and Negan must have been satisfied with what he saw.

He turned his head away, breaking the eye contact first, again, and stood up. He chuckled, but it was kind of weak. “Ahem.” He stuck the gun he picked up into the front of his jeans, and adjusted it subtly. He sniffed.

“Jesus. You look shitty.” He regained his voice and stopped in front of Maggie. “I should just put you out of your misery right now.” Carl gasped when Negan raised his baseball bat, and Glenn jumped forward, but was quickly pressed down. “No! No!” They hurt him with the guns until he quietened.

“Stop it! God!” Maggie cried.

“Nope. Nope, get him back in line.”

“Don't. Don't.” Glenn cried.

“All right, listen. Don't any of ya do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one's free. It's an emotional moment, I get it. Sucks, don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit.”

He was testing them. Riling them up.

“This is your kid, right?” Negan’s attention turned back to him again, for the third time. His bat was pointed at Carl, while he addressed his dad. He looked kind of pleased. “This is _definitely_ your kid!”

“Just stop this!” His dad screamed.

“Hey! Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don't make it easy on me. I gotta pick somebody.” Carl’s breath hitched. He shut his eye for a moment, knowing there was no way out. He was the best chance at breaking his dad, he knew it.

“Everybody's at the table waiting for me to order.”

Negan whistled, and he continued his rounds.

“I simply cannot decide.” He chuckled again. This must be fun for him. “I got an idea. Eenie... meenie... miney... mo. Catch... a tiger... by...  his toe.” Carl was very proud. Every one of them faced him head on when he went to them. They were a tough bunch. Had always been. They fed off each other’s strength and get stronger.

“If...  he hollers... let him go. My mother... told me... to pick the very best one... and you... are... it.”

Negan stopped at Abraham.

“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father and then we'll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doing that.”

He struck him again, and again, until the sound of impact changed from a sound of hard impact, to one mixed with wet smush and cracks. By the time it finished, his bat was coated with red and pieces of brain matter.

“Did you hear that!” He was still feeling Abraham’s last words. “He said suck my nuts! Phew!” He laughed like it was the best joke he had heard. The women in their group cried. He whacked another few times. He was basically beating at the ground now. “Oh my goodness! Look at this!” He swung the bloodied bat at Rick, splattering the blood across his face. “You guys, look at my dirty girl! Sweetheart, lay your eyes on this. Oh damn. Were you together?” Rosita seized as she cried. “That sucks. But if you were, you should know there’s was a reason for all this. Red, and hell he was and will EVER be red. He just too one or six or seven for the team! So take a damn look. Take a damn look!” Daryl punched Negan and tried to go after him.

“Oh. No. That! Oh my! That is a nono. The whole thing, not one bit of that shit flies here!” Daryl grunted in anger. They pulled Daryl back in line. “And anyway, that’s not how it works. Now, I already told you people. The first one’s free, then, what’d I say? I said I would SHUT THAT SHIT DOWN!” Negan finally dropped the pleased sneer as he shouted, then it clawed its way back right after. “No exeptions.”

“Now I don’t know what kind of lying assholes you’ve been dealing with… but I’m a man of my word.”

He said he would cut out Carl’s other eye and feed it to his dad. **So do it!** Carl’s eyes stared wide and angry at Negan. **Do it!**

“First impressions are important. I need you to know me.” Negan ignored him altogether, even thought there was no way his insubordination would go unnoticed.

“So. Back to it.” Negan turned back around and slammed the bat at Glenn. Maggie screamed.

“Buddy, you still there? I just don't know. It seems like you're trying to speak, but you just took a hell of a hit. I just popped your skull so hard, your eyeball just popped out, and it is gross as shit!”

Glenn whimpered. “Maggie, I’ll find you.”

Carl’s fist clenched on his jeans. Tears came dripping out. “Oh. Oh hell no. I can see this is hard on you guys. I am sorry. I truly am. But I did say it. No exceptions.”

Maggie collapsed sideways. Carl panted in rage, cheeks fluttering and eye squinting.

“People died, Rick. That’s what happened. Doesn’t mean the rest of them have to!”

“I’m gonna kill you…” His dad whispered. Negan squatted down in front of him. “Not today, not tomorrow, but I’m gonna kill you.” Negan smirked.

“Jesus. Hmph. Simon. What did he have, a knife?”

“He had a hatchet. He had an axe.”

“Simon’s my right hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without them? A whole lot of work. You have one?” Negan was smug. “Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Oh… Or did I…” He waved the bloody bat.

His dad didn’t respond to the bait. Negan sighed, “Sure. Yeah. Give me his axe.” Negan visibly contemplated his next course of action. He stuck the axe into his belt and pulled his dad off.

A sudden panic seized Carl and he grabbed the dagger from his waist and stuck it into the face of the man behind him in one motion. “Let him go! Dad!” Three other men rushed him and his arm was twisted behind his back. “CARL!” The echoes of the group were blocked out, his mind was singly focus on his dad being dragged away. There must have been five men on him. Negan and his dad were gone before he even hit the ground.

They were there, kneeling for what must have been hours but was barely two, until Negan drove back in and dragged his dad over like a dog.

“Carl.” He whispered.

Carl was fine. They didn’t even hurt him. Negan didn’t hurt him, though he promised. Maybe because he was an invalid. Worthless.

Carl met his father’s desperate eyes, the picture of calm, now that he’d returned safe. Carl was almost completely sure Negan wouldn’t hurt an inch of his dad, even from the start. And he still thought so. They were all leverage over his dad, and he was the best one, but Negan weren’t going to compromise their leader. He wanted to make him suffer instead.

Negan threw his dad forward, watching him roll.

“Here we are. Hi.” Negan waved to him. “Little serial killer. Little serial killer, you are! You just took down another one of my man, didn’t you.” Negan giggled excitedly.

“Rick. You know. I’m kind of jealous of you. Na-ah, I’m not gonna tell you why. But that kid over there. He’s a babe!” Negan smacked his dad’s face mockingly.

“Pay attention, people. This is your debrief. Let me ask you something, Rick. Do you even know what that little trip was about? Speak when you're spoken to.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that.” His dad looked exhausted. They all looked exhausted. But with that… they no longer looked at Negan with fire in their eyes.

“I wanted you to understand. But you're still looking at me the same damn way like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work.” They looked at him like he was the gum at the bottom of their shoes.

“So do I give you another chance?” Carl bowed his head.

His dad begged submissively, not meeting Negan’s gaze with the look Negan dislike.

“Yeah- Yes… Yes.”

“Okay. All right.” Negan roared, impassioned. “And here it is -- the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day. Get some guns to the back of their heads.”

Men pulled their heads back by their hair and muzzles touched their temple, everyone except for Carl. Grand-prize game, huh? This was nothing more than a show. This was always going to be Negan’s endgame, and Abraham and Glenn, were opening night. No wonder he let him go just now and went after Glenn instead. This was always in his screenplay. Some part of his written script. He’d even assembled his audience, standing around them for the whole night, playing witness to his little sick play.

The guns clocked.

“Good. Now… level with their noses, so if you have to fire,” Negan gestured and made the sound of a headshot, “it'll be a real mess.” Rick whimpered.

“Kid.” Negan smiled at him deceptively. “Right here.”

He pointed to the spot next to his dad. “Kid, now.”

Carl started to move. He got up slowly and approached Negan. “You a southpaw?”

“Am I a what?” His voice was steadier than he thought it would be. Some of their group were still whimpering. But for him, his eyes were dried, and he didn’t care for Negan’s little game anymore.

Negan took his belt off. That act would have made Carl flinch on another day, but not today. “You a lefty?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Negan licked his lips. He tightened the belt around Carl’s upper arm and Carl focused his gaze on Negan’s face, not looking at anyone from his family, even though he felt their eyes on his back. He didn’t want to see any sadness or pity. He didn’t want to see Michonne. He didn’t want to see his dad. He didn’t want them to hurt, and he didn’t want them to fear. Most of all, he didn’t want them to see the look in his eyes that might be yearning for help. They knew him too well, so he couldn’t.

“That hurt?”

“No.”

“Should.”

Negan grinned, like someone would when they saw something they liked. He saw straight through the lie in that word, coming from the badass kid. “It’s supposed to.”

“All right. Get down on the ground kid, next to daddy. Spread them wings!” He grabbed the sheriff’s hat off Carl’s head, and threw it on the ground. Stripped of his holster, his hat. He felt vulnerable. Carl lay front down onto the ground. He considered turning his head away, but his dad shouldn’t have to think for even a second, that Carl blamed him for anything.

“Simon. You got a pen?”

Negan got a pen and drew a line around his forearm. Rick started begging, finally seeing the reality of the situation.

“Rick, I want you to take your axe, and cut your son’s left arm off right on that line.”

“Now I know, I know. You’re gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still though, I’m gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then the people back home die… And then you, eventually.”

He hoped Negan wasn’t expecting him to cry, or anything, because he would be very, very disappointed. He didn’t cry for much these days. Any tears left in him, he shed them last night when Negan killed Abraham and Glenn. Fucker can try whatever he wanted for his dad’s sake, but they ain’t gon do shit to him.

“I’ll keep you breathing for a few years so you can stew on it.”

“You- you don’t have to do this.” Michonne’s voice trembled, grew thick with tears.

Carl’s jaws hurt form clenching them. Michonne once told me she didn’t beg for anything.

**She’s begging for me.**

“We understand. We understand.” Michonne sobbed.

“YOU understand? I’m not sure Rick does.” He addressed Rick. “I’m gonna need a clean cut, right on that line. Now I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it’s gonna have to be like a salami slice. Nothing messy, clean, 45 degrees. Give us something to fold over.” His dad was swallowing up the words like a starving man, hoping for the mercy that wouldn’t come, despite the sick words that kept spewing out.

“We got a great doctor. Kid’ll be fine. Probably.” His dad couldn’t move at all.

“Rick. This needs to happen now. Chop chop. Or I will crush this little fella’s skull myself.”

Rick flinched. “It can- It can- It can be me.” He stuttered. “It can be me.” Last time he saw his dad so messed up was when his mom died. Carl had a feeling this might hit his dad even harder. “W-we- You can do it to me- I c- I can go with- with you.”

“No. This is the only way. _Rick, pick up the axe._ ” There was something about the significance of that sentence that made his dad sick.

“Not making a decision is a big decision! You really want to see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing.” Negan paused, then groaned, “Oh my god! Are you gonna make me count? Okay, Rick. You win. _I am counting._ ”

“THREE!” “Please…” His dad cried, sobbing vocally, “It can be me! Please…”

**No, it can’t dad… It’s gotta be me, or it won’t work for him.**

“TWO!” “Please, don’t do-“ It worked. It worked, Negan. He made Rick beg, he made Rick weep, he made Rick plead him like he’s god. Negan slapped Rick and leaned into his face.

“This is it.”

Rick’s wail was hard on everyone. Nothing could take away that pleasure in Negan’s eyes. His dad bent over him, and pressed his arm down. His touch reminded him of that day, when Carl first woke up in the infirmary after losing an eye. His dad was telling him stories about what happen to everyone. His voice was so full of hope. And his dad’s hand was so kind and warm that Carl grabbed a hold of it, even in his half-conscious state.

“Dad…” Rick keened, and his looked down. **Carl, I’m so sorry…** He seemed to say.

“Just do it.” Carl hushed. Rick’s cries quietened and he fixated on Carl in stupor. “Just do it…” Carl’s hand closed over his dad’s fingers. His dad looked down at it, and broke down in tears, but he still raised his axe.

He raised it high.

One strike needed to be enough. Just one. Just one…

Carl closed his eyes tight, waiting for it to start, prepared to scream his throat dry.

“Rick.” Negan spoke gravelly. “You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?”

His dad’s body shook in fright. He tried to nod, but Negan grabbed his jaws. “SPEAK WHEN YOU’RE SPOKEN TO!” He boomed.

“You answer to me! You provide for me! You belong to me! Right?!”

“Right.”

…

“That… is the look I wanted to see!”

He stood back up, back to them and spoke to the audience. “We did it. All of us,” he raised both of his arms, “together… Even the dead guys on the ground! Hell, they get the spirit award for sure!”

Carl felt his dad exhale, the tension in his own body flowing away.

“Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope, for all your sake… that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you, that is over now. Dwight, load him up.”

They pushed Daryl onto a van like an animal.

“He’s got guts. Not a little bitch like someone I know. I like him, he’s mine now. You still want to try something,” He mimicked in a mocking voice, “Not today, not tomorrow- Not today! Not tomorrow! I will cut pieces off of… Hell’s his name?” He looked at Simon. Simon thought for a second. “Daryl.”

“Wow, that actually sounds right! I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep. Or! Better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me.”

“Welcome to a brand new beginning, you sorry shits!”

“I’m gonna leave you a truck. Keep it! Use it to cart all the crap you’re gonna find me. We’ll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then… Ta-ta.”

They dispersed…

Carl pushed himself up, taking the belt off his hand.

“Maggie you need to sit down. We need to get you to the Hilltop.”

Maggie shakingly made her way towards Glenn. “You need to go get ready.”

“For what?”

“To fight them.”

Rick looked at Maggie helplessly, for the first time. Carl stood up behind his dad. He saw it, Negan’s victory. It’s written all over his dad’s face.

 

It wasn’t even a week before they showed up at Alexandria.

_The gate screeched as they pulled it open. The RV drove in a bit further and stopped. Carl stepped off the RV and trudged up away from the gates._

_“Carl?” He looked up. It was as if they knew that something big happened. Almost the whole safe-zone were at the gate, paying witness to the defeat. Ron, Enid and Mikey were at the front, looking at him shocked and worriedly. Even Ron. He looked down at himself. Nothing’s wrong. So he ignored them and walked past. One by one, they stepped off the RV, one looking worse after another._

_Wordlessly, they walked towards the same location. No one called a meeting. No one asked. But every single one of their closest group ended up in the living room, like the first night they had spent in Alexandria, missing some people._

_They were all emptied. Hurt. Rick was hit the hardest. He turned a blind eye to the rest of them that still had the will to fight, and that scared them. They needed Carol, who always got through to him, but she wasn’t there either. Their group was splintered and missing half their people, and this was the most broken they had ever been, even after the prison. After everything._

_“We should all get ready. Food… weapons… Medicine, we need to try to hide some of that. Medicine, we can’t spare.”_

_“It’s not like we have much left.” Sasha muttered._

Those that had never seen the Saviors in their glory gaped. They brought close to forty men, and that wasn’t anywhere near their full strength.

Rick opened the gates to them, staying near Negan himself.

The people looked at them bewildered, not understanding what was happening, and some even grudgingly at Rick.

Ron watched from the shadows, frightened eyes blinking wide.

He followed behind Rick, and the guy they called Negan. He had a gun with him, and no one had bothered searching him yet, probably because he was a kid. Hell, none of them knew Carl carried two knives with him day in, day out, until that night he came to them for help after his dad beat him. Ron never understood why Carl, and his group did the paranoid what they did. Ron was starting to.

Negan stayed in the open almost the whole time, not worried about any attempts on his life at all, and Ron get why. One missed bullet was going to bring a truckload of hurt to everyone else. If the bullet didn’t miss, they couldn’t guarantee they would live on after either. Ron’s shaky hand moved away from the handgun in his pants.

Just then, a loud gunshot rang out, making Ron flinch. He followed Rick and Negan into their storage, gaping at the sight before him.

“Put some back, or the next one goes in you.” He hadn’t seen Carl mad before, sad maybe but not angry, but he did now. Carl was holding the handgun in his left hand, aiming it with the eye Ron didn’t shoot.

The man giggled. “Kid… What do you think happens next?”

“You die.”

Rick neared them, “Carl. Carl, put it down.”

Carl’s looked at Rick sharply. “No. He’s taking all of our medicine. They said only _half_ our stuff.”

Ron swallowed. He ignored the light flush on his cheeks and Carl’s strong silhouette to focus on what was being said. They were taking the medicine? All of it?

Negan sighed. “Of course.” He smiled, and Ron fear for Carl. God, what gave Carl the courage to draw his gun in plain sight, when Ron didn’t even dare to do it form the shadows? How were they even the same age?

“Oh-ho, really, kid?” Negan gave him that weird look again. It felt like everytime Carl did something to test his authority, he always gave Carl this same fucking look, and it was getting on Carl’s nerves.

“And you should go, before you find out how dangerous we all are.”

Ron swallowed. He still couldn’t believe this was the same guy that he had attempted to kill three times, who still forgave him after it all. Carl, who dared to threaten this man to his face wit a gun in his hand.

Negan’s eyes brightened. “Well, pardon me, young man. Excuse the shit out of my goddamn French, but… Did you just threaten me?”

Ron’s hand inched towards the handgun in his pocket without his permission. Carl- he- Ron know exactly how strong his feelings for Carl was given he’s been repressing them for a long time, but he had the feeling he was going to shoot someone if Carl was in danger.

“Look, I get threatening Davey here, but I can’t have it. Not him, not me.”

“Carl, just put it down.” Rick hissed.

“Don’t be rude, Rick. We’re having a conversation here.”

Carl didn’t back down at all. He’s back was straighter than it’s ever been, and it scared Ron because Ron had never seen this side of Carl before. This Carl, was a stranger.

“Now, boy, where were we? Oh yeah. Your giant, man-sized balls.” Negan started whispering, “No threatening us. Listen, I like you, so I don’t want to go hard, proving a point here. You don’t want that. I said half your shit, and half is what I say it is. I’m serious. Do you want me to prove how serious? Again?”

Ron grabbed the gun handle, and suddenly he was grabbed by two men. “Easy. Easy.” They pulled his hand out, revealing the gun in his hand. “Heh, heh. You need to thank us, kid. We just saved your life.” The man held the gun up to his forehead instead and pushed him forward to the door of the garage.

Carl’s breath hitched when he noticed and he dropped the gun right away, and passed it to Rick.

“You know, Rick, this whole thing reminds me that you have a lot of guns. There's all the guns you took from my outpost when you wasted all my people with a shit-ton of your own guns, and I'm bettin' there's even more, which adds up to an absolute... ass-load of guns, and as this little emotional outburst just made crystal clear... I can't allow that. They're all mine now. So tell me, Rick – where are my guns?”

They walked out and were gone in a minute. Carl walked out behind them, noticing Ron standing by the side. Carl looked calm, so it shocked Ron to hear the poison in his voice, “Upset I did something risky again or are you disappointed I didn’t get gunned down after all?” Ron flinched.

Carl saw that and he looked guilty for a minute there. He frowned, “What do you want with me, Ron?”

It hurt, and he deserved it. “Nothing.”

Carl considered him, not really sure what to think, deciding it’s probably best to just walk away. Out on the street, a man was leaning over Enid, holding green balloons in his hand. Carl had seen that look before. Known how that look felt like intimately. Ron held him back before he could move. “Don’t. He’s not going to do anything.” Carl turned around, completely caught off guard by the concern in his voice.

They made sure Enid was okay, then Carl pulled Ron out of sight.

“Look. I don’t know what’s going on with you. I don’t get you, and maybe I shouldn’t try anymore. But I don’t want to trust again you only to turn around and see you aiming a handgun in your pocket at my family. Tell me. Are you still going to kill me, or someone I love the first chance you get.”

Stranger-Carl fisted his collars.

“N-no, Carl. I-I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, I get it. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m tired of hearing that, Ron. Sick and tired and I have better things to worry about.” He pulled Ron closer, pent-up anger exploding in Ron’s face. “I’ll be honest with you. I’m not going to live forever. Maybe even much longer, I literally have no idea. And you’re going to be staying back here behind the walls, safe and sound, and most likely, you’ll be one of the guys digging my grave, even. So I tell you what your attempts to kill me are- they’re stupid, that’s what.” Carl dropped his collar.

Ron’s heart was beating painfully, and a tear slipped past his eyes. What Carl was saying, how he believed he didn’t have long to live, was a wake-up call. Maybe this was staring in his face all this time, and he had never realised. None of these people from the outside were like them, and they didn’t understand why, because they would never understand. They hadn’t gone through what they did, struggling and fighting for another day constantly. That was the world Carl grew up in, and it shaped his mind.

And despite that, despite how much they valued their life, they were still constantly taking risks for everyone, making the brave choices. Threatening dangerous men so they could keep the medicine for everyone. Sparing his life even though he tried to kill him.

Ron bowed his head, sniffing and wiping his tears away.

When he looked up again, Carl looked pained, despite the hardened jaws. He hadn’t realised that Carl was the height as him now. Their eyes lined up on the same level.

“Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. My point is-” Ron leaned in and kissed him.

It’s not unexpected, how Carl jerked back five feet and stared at him incredulously.

“Ron.” Carl swiped his hand over his lips. “You want to explain to me what the hell was that? What the fuck are you playing at?” Carl looked kind of angry, actually.

“I like you-“

“Bullshit.” Carl’s chest heaved and his fisted hand trembled like he wanted to punch the living daylights out of Ron.

“Really.”

Carl’s exasperated look only lasted a few second, then he bolted off, leaving Ron alone. Ron touched his lips, pressed them together, and licked it.

 

Ron raised sat on the roof, watching people busy themselves. The Saviors left them their food this time, but it wouldn’t be easy from next week onwards, and he knew that was part of the reason why some people was so high-strung recently was due to the impending food shortage.

He rested his forearm on his bent right knee, and considered what he could do to help. They just learnt to shoot, and now their weapons were confiscated. The first experience he had outside the wall still make his freak out, so he didn’t think he could kill a walker at close range. Then there wasn’t much he could contribute.

**What would Carl do?**

Well, for starters, he’s shown that he could handle himself out there, not that he had seen it. At least he wasn’t scared of those things, right? So meleeing probably wasn’t an issue. Then there’s the experience. Ron thought back to the way Carl stood against him with a rifle pointed at him, a handgun pointed at him, then he way he had his handgun pointed at Negan’s minion.

**Haah… What a badass.**

But then another image sprang to mind, the one of the first time he had seen Carl. They were all in his room, Mikey, Enid, Carl and him. They asked what Carl would rather do, video game, or pool, or just hang out. There was the way Carl’s entire face heated and flushed. His eyes shined with panicked tears, and his lips were pressed together tensely. Ron felt so bad for him. And then there were those times they confronted Carl. He stood, back against the wall, body straight and legs hip wide, as if it was him alone against the world. So lonely.

He wasn’t always a badass. Ron frowned, feeling bad for the way they made him feel, however unintentionally.

And most of all, he was sorry for what his dad did to Carl. Carl, kept it hidden, but Ron managed to find out while he was sneaking around, that his dad had planned to kill him, maybe even rape him first. How sick was that?

But then, Carl did have like, the prettiest blue eyes. Ron smiled in a daze.

Ron reminded himself. **Eye. Blue eye.** Because of _him_.

The one that should be an eye short, was him.

Ron stopped his train of thought and looked around his surroundings, wondering how did his thoughts stray to Carl again. It seemed like that tended to happen ever since he acknowledged his feelings for Carl.

Ron frowned, noticing two figures walking towards the edge of the wall a far distance away. It was Carl and Enid.

**Calm down, you know Enid didn’t like Carl. And Carl has no feelings for her either.**

He frowned, seeing how Enid was pushing Carl away, but Carl didn’t let go of her. Ron made his way down and ran after them urgently.

As he approached them, he could hear the sound of them arguing.

“-maybe.”

“I’ll be fine!” Enid raised her voice. “I have better aim than you.”

Carl was silenced and Ron stopped where he was, stunned.

Enid took a few calming breaths, “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Better aim, but no gun. What difference does that make?” Carl asked.

“You made it back in one piece. You’re still here.”

“What happened out there?” Ron asked.

“I’m not talking about that.” Carl’s head was lowered. Ron regretted asking like he regretted everything. Carl was swallowing harshly.

“I’m sorry you had to see it.”

Carl was firm when he replied. “I’m not.”

“Not sorry you saw that?” Enid looked disbelieving.

“I watched it. Both times. I didn’t look away. I knew that I needed to remember it, so when I have a chance to kill him, I wouldn’t have a choice.”

Enid teared, “I think I’d kill him too.”

Ron inhaled.

“It’s messed up but, you do things for the ones you love. Loved.”

“It’s not for them.” **I’d kill him for me.** Carl’s eyes were blazing with bloodlust.

She resumed climbing having made her point, and Carl let her. “Where is she going?”

Carl turned his head. “Hilltop. Where Maggie is.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Carl…”

“She’s not my responsibility, Ron.” Carl faced him head on and whispered, “And neither are you…”

“Please… She will die.”

Carl tilted his head, frown apparent and temper short. “I thought you liked me?”

Ron was stunned into silence so he continued. “Look. I don’t know what’s up without you. I don’t get it, and I don’t think I care anymore. I’m going to take it as you’re confused and put it behind us. If you care about Enid so much, go after her yourself.”

“But I’m not confused!” Ron grabbed at Carl’s shirt, only to have his hand pushed off. “I know what I feel, and it’s real. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what I did. Everything I did. I was being a big coward. I see it now. So yeah, I’m very very sorry. And I know I can never make it up to you. As for how I feel about you, it’s not new. It’s been going on a long time, even before Enid and I broke up. I just refused to accept it. I’m not asking for forgiveness, Carl. I’m not asking for a chance either.”

“I’m not a girl.”

“I’m not a girl either.” Ron responded dryly.

Carl turned his head away.

“Enid’s not safe out there… And as much as I wish I’m not, I’m still weak, and I’m still a big coward.”

Carl regarded him for a second. “Right...”

 

That conversation with Enid put a few things into perspective for Carl. He saw a chance and he took it, and was now hiding in a Savior truck that was about to be emptied.

 

Negan’s day just kept getting better. Just when he thought he was kinda missing that little goddamn serial killer and seriously considering going collecting early, he dropped himself right in his front yard, guns blazing and everything!

No one else needs to die, he said. Damn! That’s what man-sized balls meant. He wished more of his people had them. Rick really didn't know how lucky he was!

Negan whistled in major appreciation for what the kid just showed him, again!

“Damn. You are adorable.” Negan dragged one of his man in front of him.

He did just kill a man in cold blood. Ahhhh. A little monster in the making. It’s making Negan’s balls tingle.

“Did you pick that gun 'cause it looks cool? You totally did, right? Kid, I ain't gonna lie... you scare the shit outta me.”

Carl, was it? Wow. Negan hadn’t been impressed by anyone since before the outbreak began, maybe even before that. Who would’ve known the bunch of rats he effortlessly cornered in the woods hid a goddamn tiger in their midst?

He was enjoying the conversation, as much as a man held at gunpoint could, then one of his men – what’s his name again? – jumped the kid.

Honestly, the fact that the kid didn’t just shoot him when he laid eyes on Negan was making him question if the kid really would kill someone, then he went and proved that! He emptied a barrage of bullets into that guy, killed him in cold-ass blood.

Then when another tried to hold him down, he thwacked the guy almost off balance. Man. He looked as dainty as a guy could get but he certainly could punch!

“Dwight, back off. Is that any way to treat our new guest? C’mon kid. I’ll show you around.”

He stayed down, looking up like he was going to kill Negan even if he died.

“You know, you do the same damn stink-eye as your dad, except it’s only half as good ‘cause… well you know, you’re missing an eye.” The kid ignored him. He was actually starting to feel a bit rejected. “Really? You’re really not going to take my hand? Cause you’re lucky you even still have a hand.”

“Same as your boy Daryl over here, now that I think about it… How's the job going, Daryl? Hot enough for you? Yeah, it'd be tough with one arm.”

Negan let the threat stew in the kid for a while. As he thought, he kid took his hand right after.

“Ah, smart kid. Now come with me. Dwighty-boy, why don't you grab Daryl, take him to the kitchen, do a little grub prep. New plan, boys. Let's burn the dead, unload the truck later.”

Negan was speaking to his man, but his eye strayed to the kid. He picked the hat up, patted it a few, and put it back on his head.

**Oh my god, this kid is gold! I’m going to so much fun with this kid.**

“Damn, I am not gonna have time to screw any of my wives today. I mean, maybe one. Come on.”

“What are you gonna do to me?” He asked, sounding like a child for the first time. Kid didn’t even beg once when he almost got his arm cut off.

“Number one, do not shatter my image of you. You're a badass. You're not scared of shit. Don't be scared of me. It's a disappointment. Number two... you really want me to ruin the surprise? Screw you, kid. Seriously. Screw you.”

Negan grinned. Lets bring the present in!


	2. Chapter 2

Carl let the man push him in. They arrived on the second floor, looking down on what looked like it used to be an inside of a factory.

Negan started to speak. “The Saviors have gone out into the world and fought the dead and come back with some really good stuff. Some of that stuff can be yours if you work hard and play by the rules. Today, everybody gets fresh vegetables at dinner. No points needed.”

“You see that? Respect. Cool, huh? They still on their knees?” Negan’s face was that close, still wearing that grin, a dark shadow cast upon his face. “As you were!” Carl stared at the amount of people under there, kneeled to Negan like he was king.

Negan led him into a large room. There had to be close to ten women, each one of them wearing black dresses, like they were at some sort of reception.

“Ladies. Don't mind the kid.” Negan leaned in, “I know. Every woman where you're from dresses like they do the books at an auto shop. You're gonna want to look at their titties. It's cool. I won't mind. They won't mind. Knock yourself out. Make yourself comfortable, kid.”

Negan spoke with one of the women privately. Carl looked around, checking for potential weapons, but his gaze always went back to Negan, inching his face closer and closer to the woman.

Negan came back, and put a beer bottle in his hand.

“Amber, baby. You know I don't want anyone here that doesn't want to be here, right? Mm-hmm. Oh. So if you want to leave and go back to Mark... you can. But what can't you do?”

“Cheat on you.” “That is exactly right. You can't... cheat on me. There's plenty of other gals who would love to take your place, and there's a few job openings that I can think of. You want to go back to Mark and your mom? Hell, I'll put you all on the same job.”

“No. I... I'll stay. I'm... I'm sorry.” “You know what that means, right? You know what that means, right?”

“Ye... Yes. I love you, Negan.” “Oh, of course you do, darlin'. I don't know why you're crying. It's all gonna work out aces for you.”

He had the girl crying and trembling in fear, then he kissed her on the forehead. Carl’s fingers clenched on the glass bottle. Negan went back to other girl and shared a passionate kiss. It was sick…

Then two other men came in, one was Daryl, and someone else was watching him. Daryl looked awful, like he hadn’t gotten to clean himself or have a sufficient meal in days. Daryl looked at him fearfully. Not for himself, but for Carl.

“Carl, will you grab this tray for me?” Carl reached for the tray, hands brushing Daryl, hoping to give him some comfort.

“Why do you got him here?” Daryl hissed.

“Whoa! What we talk about when you're not here... is none of your business. Do not make me put this toothpick through the only eye he has. You go with Dwight. He'll get you a mop. Dwighty boy... fire up that furnace. I'll be down in a few. Time for a little deja vu. Come on, kid.”

Carl gave Daryl a look as reassuring as he could get as he left behind Negan.

Negan brought him into what seemed like his bedroom. It was big and well-decorated, untouched by the world outside.

“Are all of those women actually your...”

His dad had never really sat down with him on any of these stuff but had an idea. And then after what happened with the Claimers, there wasn’t really need for someone to tell him those things anymore.

“Wives? Yeah. Always wanted to screw a whole bunch of different women. I mean, why settle for just one? Why follow the same old rules? Why not make life better?” Suppose there wasn’t must point to following those rules anymore, people people could just go out there and kill each other. Especially not to men like Negan. “Speaking of... sit. Let's get started.”

“Started on what?” Carl doubted Negan would bring him into his pristine bedroom just to kill him and mess it up with blood.

“I want to get to know you a little better, Carl.”

“Why?”

“Work it out. You're smart.” Negan peered at him, the picture of innocence with no ulterior motive. “In fact, I'm gonna tell you just how smart you are, in case you don't already know. See, I'd expect a kid your age to be moping around, not doing a damn thing, except crying about missing the prom. But you... you go on a mission. You find me, you kill two of my men, and you're smart enough to know that I'm not gonna let this slide.”

Carl didn’t expect him to. In this world, you either live for something worth dying for, or you don’t live at all. Or you become men like Negan.

“Ah, I can't... I can't do it. It's like talking to a birthday present. You got to take that crap off your face. I want to see what Grandma got me.”

“No.”

Negan suddenly turned the mood around and shouted at him. “Two men! Two... men. Punishment. Do you really want to piss me off?” Carl forced himself to get his own emotions and body under control, swallowing again and again. He sighed, took off his hat, and reached his hands to the back of his head.

Negan laughed, pleased. “Almost there.”

Carl unwrapped the bandage completely.

“Get that hair out of your face. Let me see.”

Carl couldn’t focus on anything. His entire mind was zoned-in on the fact that his left eye was now exposed. The black and empty eye socket. His lack of eyelids and bald brows. The wrangled scar tissues extending from the inside of his eye.

“Christ! That is disgusting. No wonder you cover that up. Have you seen it? I mean, have you looked in the mirror? That is gross as hell. I can see your socket. I want to touch it. Oh, come on. Can I touch it?” A high-pitched noise resounded in his ear after hearing Negan’s cheer. His mockery. Carl focused his eye on Negan, summoning as much courage as he had, but it was not enough. His remaining eye blurred and it was painful to not bring his eye down and cover his ears.

“Damn. Holy hell, kid. Look... I just...” Carl was not fooled. Negan didn’t give two shits about him. The trace of mockery was still in his voice, even though he tried to sound regretful. Even his lips trembled with the urge to rise up again. Carl wasn’t going to give him a chance to get to him. His body might be ruined, but his mind was still not.

 

Negan really wasn’t meant to care. A simple aw-I’m-sorry would do. He dropped that elated tone for a moment. A few empty consolation, it’s all good. It’s not like the kid would actually expect him to be sincere, right? If he was, then maybe the kid wasn’t as smart as Negan thought he was.

He grabbed any excuse from the air. “It's easy to forget that you're...” Negan’s words died in his mouth. He looked at Carl, eyes lowered, face hardened, and clearly doing his absolute best to make himself impenetrable.

“…just a kid.” Negan finished lamely.

The slip of actual emotion was gone before it registered.

“I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything. I... I was just screwing around. Just forget it.”

A knocking came at the door.

“Come in.”

“I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but, uh... you left Lucille out by the truck.”

Negan’s eyes widened. **Woah…** “Seriously? I never do that. I guess a kid firing a machine gun is a little bit of a distraction.” They just didn’t know how much. Truthfully, he wasn’t insane. He messed around with everyone treating Lucille like a ‘lady’ but he wasn’t going bonkers. He was fond of having it around. He liked it around. And he truly never just dropped her somewhere like that. Negan eyed Carl, somehow feeling like he wanted to celebrate.

Making Carl like him better, suddenly became more important than Lucille.

“All jokes aside, you look rad as hell. I wouldn't cover that shit up.” He spoke honestly. “It may not be a hit with the ladies, but I swear to you, no one is gonna screw with you looking like that. No, sir.” Negan grinned. He thought Carl would roll his eyes, if he could was more comfortable with him.

 **Cheer him up.** Negan thought. He turned his attention back to Jos.

“Fat Joseph, did you carry her all the way up here for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you gentle? Were you kind? Uh... Did you treat her like a lady?” It was funny. Jos started sweating nervously and Carl gave him a look with complete disbelief. Negan wanted to giggle. If any of his men had dared to give him this look, he would have made them his sidekick a long time ago. That or have them punished, if he didn’t like them.

“Mm, yes. Yes, sir.”

“Did you pet her little pussy like a lady?” Negan couldn’t resist waiting for a reaction from Carl. The boy averted his eyes at the mention of the female genitalia, exactly like Negan did when he was at that age.

“I'm just screwing around, man. A baseball bat doesn't have a pussy. Get the hell out.” Negan laughed.

“Now, you see? That's what I'm talking about. Men breaking each other's balls. This is the shit your dad's supposed to be teaching you.” Carl ignored him. Woah. Some lack of appreciation for the valuable lessons Negan was giving for free here. Imagining Carl learning what he could and going out breaking other men’s balls filled Negan with such a rush.

He got excited again. “What do you like to do for fun? You like music? I want you to sing me a song.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You mowed down two of my men with a machine gun. I want something in return for that. Sing me a song.”

“I... I... I can't think of any.”

“Bullshit! What'd your mom used to sing you? What'd your dad play in the car? Start singing.”

“Okay, okay. Okay. Uh...” Only one song came to mind…

“ _You are my sunshine. Go on. My only sunshine. You make me happy. When skies are gray._ ” Carl choked with emotion. Negan took that as a sign that he was intentionally resisting the order.

“Do not let me distract you, young man.” Negan said after he whacked the bat around. Carl flinched and closed his eyes when it happened. Going back to the last time he had seen his mom. **You're gonna be fine. You are gonna beat this world, I know you will. I love you.**

“ _You'll... never know...dear, how much I love you. So... Please don't take my... Sunshine away._ ”

“That's pretty good. Lucille loves being sung to. It's about the only thing she loves more than bashing in brains. Weird, huh?”

Negan realised something was wrong. “Did your mother sing that to you? Where is she now?”

Carl sniffed. Negan’s jaw hanged open. **Shit.** **Be delicate, dammit.**

“Damn… Dead, huh? You see it happen?” The moment was kind enough to make Negan pregnant. He was expecting Carl to cry and maybe confide, then they would become closer and then ta-da. Friends.

But Carl shot down his expectations, with something. Even. Better.

“I shot her...”

Negan smiled. **Man-sized balls, remember?** “before it could...”

“Damn, no wonder you're a little serial killer in the making.” Negan’s voice was softer. This wasn’t like before, when he was trying to appease Carl.

This was… He couldn’t explain it.

“That was an example of breaking balls, by the way.” He smiled at the teen, savouring the peaceful moment. He was afraid Carl would disappoint him. Never meet your heroes, they said. But no. Carl was exactly the badass he’d expected, perhaps even more.

“Come on, kid. Get up. It should be ready.”

“What should be ready?” Negan almost hesitated bringing Carl. They were good right now and Negan going to be tempting fate by bringing Carl along. But then Carl saw him bash his friends head in already, so maybe there was no point in hiding anything. It’s better to show Carl how the world works now. He could take it.

“The iron.”

Negan brought Carl down to witness their tradition. Or should he say. Their system.

“Hold that for me… You know the deal. What's about to happen is gonna be hard to watch. I don't want to do it. I wish I could just ignore the rules and let it slide, but I can't. Why?”

All: The rules keep us alive.

Negan continued, “That... is... right. We survive. We provide security to others. We bring civilization back to this world. We are the Saviors. But we can't do that without rules. Rules are what make it all work. I know it's not easy. But there's always work. There is always a cost. Here, if you try to skirt it, if you try to cut that corner... Then it is the iron for you… On your feet.”

“D... Mark... I'm sorry. But it is what it is.” Negan brought the iron to his face. By the time he took it off, Mark’s melted face peeled off and stuck to the iron.

“Ah, that wasn't so bad, now, was it? Jesus. He pissed himself. Clean that up. Doc, I'm all done. Do your thing. Well, the pussy passed out. But it's settled... we're square. Everything is cool. Let Mark's face be a daily reminder to him and to everyone else that the rules matter. I hope that we all learned something today, because I don't ever... want to have to do that again.”

“Some crazy shit, huh? You probably think I'm a lunatic. Come on. Let's go figure out what to do with you.” Negan whispered to Carl.

 

They were back in Negan’s room.

“Can I wrap up my face now?” Hmm. Polite. Gentle. Like a kid his age should sound like. Negan wasn’t sure whether to feel pleased, or not. He hoped he hadn’t misjudged, bringing him to see the… ironing. This was the kid that saw him bash his friend’s head in, tmade his father cut off his own arm, and still dared to point a gun to his man’s face in front of him.

“No, you absolutely cannot.” Negan smugly replied.

“Why the hell not?!” **Oooh-ho!** With that empty eye socket showing… **There it is! Ahh.** He really liked this kid. **Make him mine.**

“Look at this badass. You can't because I'm not done with you. And I like looking at your disgusting, rad-ass, badass eye, so it's staying out. What? You got something to say?”

“Why haven't you killed me? Or my dad or Daryl?” Good question. Not stupid, but inexperienced.

“Daryl... is gonna make a good soldier for me. You see, he thinks he's holding it together... but you saw it. Your dad? He's already getting me great stuff. You, on the other hand... Well, we shall see. It's more productive to break you. More fun, too.”

Carl’s stink-eye came again. Negan was actually lying. His stink-eye was better than his dad’s. Why? Because his dad thinks he could kill him, planned to kill him, but could be convinced not to, like a pussy. But Carl… he was going to do what he said he would no matter what. That’s some resolve.

“You thinking that's stupid?”

“I'm thinking we're different.”

Negan smirked. Maybe. But not as much as you think.

“Mm. You're a smart kid. What do you think I should do? You know I can't let you go. So, do I kill you? Iron your face? Chop off your arm? Tell me. What do you think?” Negan tested Carl, watching gleefully and rage bloomed on the teen’s face.

Carl shot up from his seat and marched into his personal space, staring down at Negan with a death glare. “I think you should jump out the window to save me the trouble of killing you.”

Negan chuckled. “Oh! Now, there is the kid that impressed the hell out of me.”

“I think you're not saying what you're gonna do to me because you're not going to do anything.” Negan could choose not to react to anything. And this, he had to choose not to react, because the kid hit it right on the dot.

“If you knew us, if you knew anything, you would kill us. But you can't.”

Noo… Now that- that’s not so fun… Negan considered the boy, leaning towards him.

“So you _want_ me to do something?” Negan leaned into his space. Something had been bothering him about Carl. Since the first time he had seen Carl. He wasn’t the sort to miss details, and people’s every reaction was the most important thing. They were the manual to get under a person’s skin. And that day, when he took his belt out, he rattled some people. Carl, his dad, Daryl, and the black woman. Carl, especially.

Now, there were only so many ways a belt could play a part in something unpleasant. One, was whippings, but Rick wouldn’t do that. And the second…

“Stand up. Stand in front of my bed. Go on.” Something flickered in Carl’s eye. Something dark. Negan forced his smile to stay on, even though it rattled him too.

“Take off your clothes.”

Negan regarded Carl with sharp eyes. The boy’s eye was wide and he was trembling. Negan was suddenly filled with rage, and some of that must have shone through, because Carl started moving and stopped hesitating.

Carl took his shirt off, and his top half was bare soon. His hands went to his trousers, then Negan grabbed them. He leaned in close, watching Carl, who closed his eye. It was wet.

“Go on.” Carl’s shaky voice prompted.

Without his eye open, Negan’s false smile dropped quickly.

“You sound like you know what I’m going to do… What are you, fifteen? Are you even old enough?”

“What difference does it make to men like you?”

“Men like me?”

“You have a room full of women. I’m not an idiot. You want sex, you can have it. I’m still going to kill you the first chance I get.” Resolve was a coping mechanism for Carl, it seemed. Always turning emotions into productivity. It wasn’t a bad way to cope. There were worse, much worse ways. But it was damaging to the person after a while.

“You’re not scared.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, but Carl answered regardless.

“I’ve been here.”

Negan’s fist clenched so hard it cracked, and Carl opened his eye in alarm.

“With who?”

“Why do you care?”

Negan suddenly grabbed his throat with his bare hand. “I ask, you answer, kid.” Carl’s hands instinctually went up over his that was clenched on his throat. Carl wasn’t nearly as afraid as a kid should be. That’s worrying.

“I don’t know them. They call themselves the Claimers. They’re dead.”

Negan rubbed around his beard with his other hand.

“My dad killed them.”

Negan released Carl. Carl’s hands immediately went back to releasing his buckles, surprising the heck out of Negan, and Negan grabbed his hands to stop him, again.

When Negan looked back up to reprimand him, Carl was the one smirking this time. Negan felt like he’s been played.

“See? You’re not going to do shit to me. I don’t know why you won’t. And I don’t care. You’re going to regret it.”

But Negan’s smile crept up. He faked a large exhale.

“Hoo. Maybe you're right. Maybe I can't.”

That’s it for the day, he guessed. He had found out all he needed to know, scared the kid a few times. Productive day. But he couldn’t. He needed to get more of this kid. “Let's go for a ride, kid. Get dressed.” Carl gaped at the sudden change, but he wasn’t going to deny a chance to get out of there.

At the parking lot, Negan sat in the passenger’s seat and left the driving to Carl.

“Daryl! You seem worried, so I'm taking the kid home.”

“If you do anything to him...”

“Dwight! Daryl needs a time-out. Put him back in his box for a while.”

 

Olivia opened the door, looking absolutely freaked out.

Negan whistled as he entered.

“Carl, where’s-” Olivia’s eyes darted around.

“Enid’s fine.” Carl quickly stopped her, not wanting Enid on Negan’s radar.

“Great, great, great, great, great, great! Where's Rick?” Negan addressed Olivia.

“Uh, I... I'm just...”

“Don't care~” Negan sing-songed. He missed this. People peeing themselves just being in his presence, something Carl refuse to give him the satisfaction of. “Where's Rick?”

“Um, out scavenging for you.”

“Cool. I'll wait.”

“Um... he went out pretty far. They might not be back today. We're running really low on everything. We're practically starving here.” **Woah, overselling it much?**

“Starving? You? By ‘practically’, you mean ‘not really.’”

Carl walked forward, as if he was going to shield the fat lady, but Negan kept him back. Then Carl gave him that awesome stink-eye again.

“Really? You people seriously don't have a sense of humor. Excuse me. What's your name again?”

“Olivia.”

“Right. Olivia. I am sorry for having been so rude to you just now. And it looks like I'm gonna be here for a while, awaiting your fearless leader's return. And if you'd like... I think it would be enjoyable... to screw your brains out. I mean, if, you know, you're agreeable to it.” She slapped him. “I am about 50% more into you now. Just sayin'.”

“All right, well, I'm just gonna put my feet up and wait for my stuff to get here. Olivia... would you be a lamb and make us a little lemonade? Now, I know I left you all some of that good powdered stuff.”

“Well, I'm supposed to be with... “

“Make it. Make it. Take your time. Make it good.”

Carl stared at him. Somehow, after spending the day in Negan’s presence, people’s fear of him seemed a little too extreme now. Negan was still the dangerous man who did sick things just for a laugh, but Carl wasn’t really that scared of his presence anymore.

“All right, kid! Take me on the grand tour.

He stepped barefoot on the carpet of Carl’s room, just to feel what it’s like to live in there. Carl looked at him like he was a moron.

He opened a tap. **Hmm, water!** Carl looked at him like he was an absolute moron.

He bulls-eyed Carl’s dartboard. Carl looked at him jealously. **Heh.**

“How about this one?”

“Oh, I-it's just a water heater...”

“Are you serious, kid? Come on- Oh-ho, my. Look at this little angel. Oh.”

 

“Oh, this little girl is precious.” Negan hummed. “Hey, neighbor. Why don't you come by later? We might grill out.”

Negan felt good. He felt like he was in the older times again. Sweet kid by his side, and another sweeter one in his arms. He smiled lovingly at the baby- Judith. She’s just so beautiful.

“Oh, I like it here. Mm-hmm. I might just have to stay here.” She fell asleep. The angel even slept beautifully. Carl’s whole family was precious. Except his dad. Just the two kids them. Must be their mom that gave them the precious-gene.

“You know, I was thinking about what you said earlier, Carl. Maybe it is stupid keeping you and your dad alive. I mean, why am I trying so hard? Maybe I should just bury you both down in one of those flower beds. Huh? And then I could just settle into the suburbs. What do you think about that?”

 

Carl watched the man, unimpressed.

**Ball-breaking.**

 

People were starting to gather around the sight of Negan and Spencer playing pool in Carl’s front yard.

Ron’s heart lurched, knowing Carl was with him the whole day. Even now, Carl stood on his own porch watching, looking bored and uninterested while the world was worrying. It was also the first time everyone saw Carl’s eye.

It was horrible… Looked very painful. And Ron did that to the boy he cared about.

Carl had a very good impassive face on. But Ron didn’t know it was Negan who gave him the courage for it.

Carl had faced mockery, and suffered through having every single one person at the Savior’s base seen his greatest shame. He had left it open the whole day. **It is what it is.** He wasn’t going to cry about it anymore.

Carl heard what Spencer had been talking to Negan. He wasn’t worried for his dad. It’s not that he knew Negan very well, but Negan selected his closer group of men very carefully. Spencer was obviously nowhere near to making the cut.

Negan’s reaction to it though, slicing the man’s torso open, that Carl didn’t anticipate. Rosita, in a fit of anger, took a shot at Negan, which started a hunt for the man behind the bullet.

Carl’s head ached.

 

Right before Negan finally left for the day, he waved his hand at Carl, beckoning him over. Negan walked him to the side, knowing everyone could see them and feeling the wary looks on his back.

Carl eyed him suspiciously.

“Think about what you are prepared to sacrifice.”

Carl’s breathing halted.

“No. Nah, sacrifice is a bad word. What you,” he pointed at Carl’s chest, “are prepared to do, then.”

“For?”

“For whatever you need it for. For these people here. For their lives. For yourself. For Judith.”

“Everything.” Carl’s resolve was touching, but no.

“I’m serious-”

“So am I. If you want my life, to let Alexandria go, take it.” Carl grabbed his right hand and tried to pull it up to his throat, like what happened in his bedroom earlier that day. Negan snatched his hand back, feeling an unfamiliar surge of anger again.

“Do not interrupt me when I’m speaking!” Negan’s voice boomed. Everyone saw Carl just reach for his hand, and they heard Negan shout.

His men started to approach, but he raised his hand to stop them.

“We operate by a points system here. People that belong to me, they work hard, do their jobs right, and they get points. They use it for all sorts of things they want. A clean bed, food, medicine, even better guns. Of course, that’s off limits to you, but I imagine the rest might be… useful.”

Negan could see the realisation sinking in. Food, medicine, supplies were a huge temptation. His points system didn’t extend beyond his own people, but Carl was an exception.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Well, that depends on what you’re willing to do.”

Carl frowned. And Negan immediately brought a finger up to stop that train of thought. “But not that, Jesus. You’re like less than half my age. I’m talking about _service_ … God no, that sounds wrong too. What I’m saying is, you come over once a week, do things for me, and I count it to your credit. Anything goes wrong back here, you’re giving your people a _chance_.”

Carl hesitated.

“I don’t make this offer to just anyone. Not to everyone else, in fact. Just you. Do not, I repeat, do not waste this.”

“I won’t kill people for you. Or the ironing. Or-”

“It’s like talking to a brick wall. I just told you, literally I just told you like a minute ago, to think about what you’re prepared to do. If I have to force you to do something, I can already do that now, can’t I? Lighten up.”

“… Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I accept.” Carl held out his right hand seriously. Negan grinned, and returned the shake.

“Well, I accept your acceptance. But still, don’t expect me to like spare people’s lives just cause you wiped a few tables. I’m not _that_ easy. You want to protect these people, keep them in line.”

Negan gave him a pat on the shoulder, and Carl irritably tried to shake it off. Negan whistled as he got into the truck they drove here and drove off with his men.

His dad came up to him, “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing. Tried to intimidate me a little. Showed me around his base, too.”

Rick sighed in relief. “Don’t do something like that, Carl.”

“Well, you weren’t gonna.”

Rick was speechless. “He’s dangerous.”

“So were we. Before we handed over all our weapons and played sheep.”

“Look Carl-” “Dad. I get why you do what you do. I get it. It’s your choice. But it’s not mine.”

Carl walked back towards their house, seeing Ron on the way, and ignored everyone else’ glances. It must have looked weird to other people, how he and Negan interacted now.

“Ron, I want to talk to you.”

Ron looked surprised, and maybe a but hopeful.

They walked back to Carl’s room together. Carl locked the door, and found Ron looking around his room.

“It’s just a room.”

Ron’s cheeks were dusted with pink. The way he looked at Carl was… different. Maybe it had always been like this, underneath the hate.

“Yeah…”

Carl exchanged a breath. “Your feelings… I don’t return them.”

Ron’s face fell.

“I wasn’t asking you to.”

“I know… You should try it again with Enid. You two can work it out, now that you’ve been out there before and learnt to fight. You can take care of her.”

Ron got angry by that. “Don’t bring Enid into this. I like _you_. Not Enid. And I don’t want to date her.”

“Well I don’t like _you_.” Carl frowned. “At least not in that way.”

Ron’s face lifted, and Carl wondered what he said to make Ron look pleasantly surprised.

“So you do like me? Just not in that way.”

Carl tiled his head. Was it just him or were they going around in circles. “Yeah?”

Ron suddenly teared and his lower lip trembled, making Carl back away.

“Ron. I’m serious. This is a rejection. I don’t like you that way, and I want you to try to stop.”

Ron wiped his face. “So we can be friends?”

That question snapped Carl out of whatever daze he was in. His face shuttered. “No.”

“But I thought-”

“Ron, you barely know me. And clearly, I don’t know you at all. I don’t intend for us to be friends.”

Ron’s lip shook. “…You still hate me, don’t you?”

It would be easier to say yes and have Ron give up hope, but Carl didn’t want to lie.

“I don’t. I never did, Ron. You did all that by yourself, but we can’t be friends.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t trust you.”

Ron was quiet. “Why is this so sudden?”

“It’s not exactly sudden. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“While you were with the Saviors?”

“Not the whole time. Maybe you do like me. Even if I’m male. Even if you’re not confused. But I can’t see myself with you.”

"I didn't ask for that. I didn't even ask for your forgiveness."

"But you have it."

Ron hid his eyes away from Carl.

"That's all I want to talk about."

"Okay…" Ron backed away from him and left his room.

Ron might be that clueless as to end up shooting someone he liked, but Carl wasn't. He'd figured that out his own crush the second time he found Ron trying to kill him, and all he felt was hurt and no anger. At first he thought it was just because he hadn’t been around people his age for a really long time, and he was supposedly at _the age_. But it became more than that the more times he couldn’t help but cover for Ron, even though he told himself not to.

Just because he didn't think of it nor consider it, didn't mean he forgot its existence.

But he meant what he said about not being able trust Ron, and then there was a larger reason. Their battle against Negan was still peaking.

He knew there would come a time when they would take action again, and he planned to do all he could for that. He didn't have the heart for Ron right now. Not if he wanted to do others right. And do Ron right.

 

Rick called for a general meeting not a day later. They needed more people out doing runs, and most people now had the skills for it. They just needed some experience. The plan was to form two to three more groups of people that could help with doing runs, and have a few experienced ones going with them.

Rick asked for hands. Naturally, Ron raised his. But it surprised him that Enid and Mikey raised theirs too. Two other boys closer to twenty that didn't hang out with them volunteered as well. The way they looked so confident about it made Ron kind of uneasy.

Sadly, didn't have enough people for a third group after all. The other group was mostly adults that were of good fitness, but had lesser people. They considered mixing up the two groups so the ages evened out a little bit, but they thought decision-making could become an issue, so the decision was to try it out first.

Carl didn't volunteer, but he was assigned to them, along with Rosita. His dad and Michonne were going with the older group. If would have been a better choice to have the other older members from their group to lead this team, such as Maggie or Tara, but they were not available. It felt like people from their group were taken away from them one by one. There wasn’t much of the Prison group left with them now.

 **At least I still have Judith.** Carl mused.

They were both set to scavenge not beyond three miles radius from the safe-zone, which was actually a really small radius. The adults went out on the first day, checking things out first before the younger team headed out on the second day.

Carl had his holster worn, two knives at the ready, including his dagger. He might be a bit overcautious, but he wasn't part of his old group this time, which means he really needed to be careful. He kept a third throwable small knife in the last compartment next to the empty gun pocket. He had practised his throwing fervently for the past two weeks. After the guns were confiscated, he figured learning to throw a knife would be useful. Daryl was the expert on this, but he wasn't around anymore. Thankfully, Michonne gave him pointers.

Jim and Andy, from what he observed, both carried larger weapons, an axe and machete. Then Enid brought a simple knife, Mikey a screwdriver and Ron, a machete.

He and Rosita had privately discussed that if things went south, they were to meet at the road connection 1 mile away from the gates. Rosita would move in front, and Carl at the back to make sure nobody lagged behind. Given they had a general lack of strength in the whole group, Jim and Andy walked right behind Rosita to cover for her.

They drove for the first mile, not noticing much on the paper map to check out, then they went close to the small town close to the enclosure which Glenn found Enid. Enid also know the area somewhat, which made it more suitable for a practise run.

Unless it was still full of walkers.

Thankfully it's not. They drove close to the entrance of the town, finding it eerily silent. Rosita considered the shop titles, and figured hitting the pharmacy first was more important than food for the Saviors. Carl agreed.

Jim went ahead too quickly and Rosita had to pull him back. "Sorry," he shrugged. Carl frowned at him, reminding himself to keep a closer eye on those two.

Ron stayed in formation tightly, seemingly a bit panicky.

Rosita pushed the door open slowly, making sure not to make much noise. Instead of following her in, Jim and Andy hanged back, making Carl hiss in alarm.

"What-r you doing! Cover her!"

Jim frowned, "She told us to hang back!" He hissed back. Carl didn't bother replying and pushed him to the side to look for Rosita.

Thankfully she was fine, looking annoyed as she had heard their conversation outside.

Carl ushered them in to check the store, making sure to leave no corners unchecked. When that was done, he kept watch outside while the others stocked up.

There wasn't much left on the shelves, but there were still some in the cardboard boxes at the back of the store.

After that they headed out. Two walkers had wandered in from somewhere and were roaming the parking lot in front of the store. Carl gestured to it.

"Jim and Andy take one and Ron, Mikey and Enid take one?"

"Do you need us to show you how?" Rosita asked them.

"It's okay. We practised this for weeks." Andy assured them. Ron and Mikey nodded their heads.

Carl hanged close to Jim and Mikey, and Rosita hanged close to Ron and Mikey. Enid held her screwdriver in her hands by the side.

Jim and Mikey didn't bother creeping up to the walker, just walked upright to it and attacked. Jim held the walker's arms back and Andy brought the machete down on its head. Jim almost released it before realising it's not dead yet.

"You need to hack it deeper, middle to lower back of the brain's where the virus is at."

Mikey kicked the walker's knee so it fell to the floor, allowing Ron to swing his machete down with the force from it's weight.

Another walker appeared from the alley behind them, creeping up to Enid.

She held the screwdriver up, and gave it a stab at a good timing, but couldn't drive it in with enough force.

Its head came down, aiming for Enid's exposed face. Carl ran over and grabbed its body, throwing it down, and sat on it while he gave its head a clean stab.

"You alright?" Enid wasn't too shaken and nodded yes. Ron and Mikey came over to check over her worriedly.

"Let's continue." Rosita gestured forward further into the town.

They decided to change their plans, and have Carl walk second to her. Enid stayed at the back and made sure no one lagged behind and no walkers followed them.

"We need to start moving faster. We're too exposed."

"Come on."

They headed into another store close by. It looked like it used to be a supermarket, until it was emptied by looters. Suddenly, a loud wailing sound erupted. Carl glared at Andy hatefully, noticing it was him that triggered the car alarm.

All of a sudden, walkers started emerging from stores, alleyways and outside the town.

"Shit, we're surrounded." Rosita cursed and started working on the car. She's the only one that knew how.

"You need to get that thing turned off, we'll hold the perimeter."

"Wh-what?" Andy stuttered.

"I thought you said you practised for weeks?!" Carl shouted at him. "Just aim for the head!"

The first wave of walkers reached them. Carl pulled his arm back and stab one down. He looked back worriedly. Ron seemed to be frightened and something dark was in his head. Carl swung his knife at another one coming up behind him and ran over to another one who was going after Mikey, who was already struggling with one.

Carl stood further forward and was flanked by Andy and Mikey, whom were sided by Jim and Ron respectively. "How much longer do you need? That alarm is drawing walkers for a miles. We need to be out of here before they reach!"

The second wave reached them. It was all going fine until Carl heard a scream. Jim's axe had gotten stuck on a head. The walker dropped to the ground and pulled Jim down with him. Carl pushed a walker coming up over him but was knocked over by another one, landing with two walkers stacked above him, and others coming his way. Just like that time right after he escaped the prison with his dad.

He almost pushed himself from under the snarling walkers when another tripped and fell over him. Carl could hear Ron calling his name, and hear Enid's scream.

"Andy, help them! They're down!" Mikey shouted at the boy who was simply frozen at the side, while Jim was still struggling to pull his axe out and Carl was pinned by three live walkers.

They all looked towards Andy and something snapped. He turned his back and maniacally ran for the closest opening there was.

"Andy!" Jim called.

Carl never did expect help, stabbing the three walkers dead one by one.

Suddenly, the world was silent except for grunts and moans from the next incoming wave. Rosita and Mikey helped to pull the walker bodies away from him, then Rosita pulled him up.

"We're surrounded!" Enid gasped.

Rosita pointed to the empty mart they were going to search before it all went down. "Inside, now."

Rosita led them into the mart and they held the door shut behind then against the force of a dozen walkers. Mikey pulled one of the shelves over and they toppled it against the door.

"We're dead," Jim cried, "We're all dead..."

Ron flinched at how Jim sounded exactly like the day he shot Carl.

Rosita pointed to the back of the store, eyeing Carl meaningfully.

"Stay here." Carl whispered, gripping the dagger higher and they stepped towards the back slowly from both sides. They moved in sync and checked every aisle of the store.

"Clear." Carl's voice rang out.

"Clear." Rosita echoed. "Radio back, we're trapped here."

Carl nodded and brought the walkie to his mouth. "Dad?"

"Carl? This is Michonne. What's going on?"

"We set off a car alarm. We're all trapped inside a store now."

"We can't get to you right now. We're still at Hilltop. Can you handle yourselves for a few?"

"Yeah, okay. We should be fine. There's quite a lot out there. Let us know when we're reaching and we'll take them from both sides."

"Roger. Stay safe."

Carl put the walkie down. "Settle in, we gon be here for a while."

Enid and Ron were still panting. “Are you okay?” Ron was genuinely worried for him. Seeing him go down under a bunch of walkers was one of the worst moments of his life.

"What about Andy?" Jim's face was pale.

"What about him?"

"He's still out there! He could die!"

"And we're stuck inside here! We're not going to go out looking for him with a herd like that out there." Rosita chimed in.

"So you're just leaving him out there to die??"

Carl put a hand up to calm him, "You need to keep it down. If you draw more of them, the door's not gonna hold."

"But..."

Carl sighed. Rosita took over, "Kid. He deserted us. People like him can't handle this world. We risk our lives to get him, he's going to cost us, if not now, then further down the road. He's gonna cost all of us."

Mikey looked understanding, as well as Enid. Ron stared at him blankly.

"Besides, nobody forced him. He wants to try his luck out there alone? That's his choice."

"He was scared!"

"So are the rest of us! You don't see us running off by ourselves in panic! You didn't. We didn't."

"You brought us out here." Jim growled.

Rosita got up and held Jim back when he advanced at Carl.

"Hey! Carl saved your life!" Rosita snapped. "You need to sit down, right now. None of us are going anywhere. We'll decide whether to look for Andy only after support comes in. That's final."

Jim collapsed strengthlessly to the ground, close to hyperventilating.

Carl seated himself closest to the door and drank water from his bag. The walkers continued pushing against the door and windows. Carl couldn’t relax until they were all out of here.

Ron and Enid shared a bottle of water while Mikey shared his with Jim. Ron was still trembling slightly. Mikey watched him with sympathy. They didn’t weren’t prepared for this, growing up. Not like Carl was. Seeing Carl handle the situation gave him a good idea of what they could hope to be. Ron knew that too, but nerves were a hard thing to beat. Mikey thought back to the time he visited Ron after he woke up, day before the walkers broke through, he was so sorrowful. Mikey had guessed it must have been because of his mom and Sam, but something told him it was more than that.

However, he also became a lot stronger as a person, taking their training seriously and meeting challenges head-on, such as this food run. Mikey patted the guy on the back in support, then Enid held one of his hands, giving him strength.

Carl looked away from them and busied himself with checking himself over for bite wounds. Sometime with adrenaline rushes, it was easy for overlook wounds, especially bite wounds due to denial.

The banging subsided slightly the longer they waited. Static came through the walkie where it was left beside him. Carl picked it up thinking it had to be his dad. It’s been more than long enough for them to come back for them.

However, there was only static on the walkie.

“What’s going on?”

“Something must have come up. They’re out of range.” Carl frowned.

“But Hilltop should be within range. Unless they had to travel further. Could it be Negan?”

Carl shook his head.

“So what do we do now?” Enid asked.

Carl went up to check the window. “There’s about twenty of them I can see. Might be more further down the streets. They’re quite scattered now, only about four in front of the door. I think we can take ‘em and make a run for it. Any longer we wait and it’s going to be sundown. We don’t want to risk having more of them wake up at night.”

“That alarm was pretty loud. If there were any hiding ones around here, they’re out there already.” Rosita supplied.

“You up for it?” Carl asked Jim. He nodded hesitantly. It’s as good as he could ask for. If they did make it back alive, Carl’s not sure Jim should be allowed on more runs. He did well up until to the point they lost Andy. Lone rangers were detrimental to the group, but sentimentality wasn’t much better.

Carl took out a smaller knife and held it out to Jim. “You don’t hit hard enough, and I don’t think you can in the state you’re in. Use the knife. It’s easy. Kick the legs and kill them after they come down. It’s slower, but more effective.”

Jim took the knife from him and Carl grabbed the axe he had.

“Get ready, we move out in five.” Rosita announced.

They went out the front door instead of breaking the glass window and making more noise. Carl and Mikey stayed behind to deal with the four walkers at the door while others start jogging along the pavement. After they confirmed Carl and Mikey were catching up, Rosita picked up the pace, avoiding as many as they could. They were cut off further down the main street where more walkers were crowded around an electronics store which had a TV turned on but playing static. Enid led them into an alleyway she knew went back towards where they parked the car. They stopped at the edge, Rosita peeking to check the situation.

Static came through Carl’s walkie.

“Dad? Dad you there?” Carl hissed.

“-wait- close- there soon.“ Carl sighed. He was distracted and didn’t notice Rosita and the others had backed away from the edge and were running past the alley opening, continuing down the path.

Ron saw the walker around the corner Carl did not and rushed back without thinking. “Carl!” He grabbed the walker by its clothes, but it ripped. The walker was tall and build quite big, a weight Ron could not overpower.

However, he got its attention.

It advanced towards Ron at a rapid pace and just when he thought he was going to get a chunk of flesh bitten out of him, it was put down by Carl at the last minute.

They were left looking at each other in shock, panting and sweating. They jerked out of the trance because of a loud growl that sounded quite close to them. Carl put a knife in its head and they ran.

 

They drove away from the town and reached the fork on the road, and stopped there, catching their breath. A familiar RV headed towards them. It stopped before them, and people Carl expected to see stepped out.

His dad came up behind him worriedly. “You guys all got out fine? We had to make a detour somewhere and then there was a delay on the road. We were worried.” His dad held his hand up to Carl’s face in an unusual show of emotion that only happened behind closed doors for him. Sometimes, Carl got the idea that his dad worried that he would be embarrassed if he acted too motherly for Carl. But he didn’t know motherly was just what Carl ached for.

“Yeah we all got back fine, except for Andy. He panicked and ran off when we were surrounded. We haven’t had the chance to look for him.”

His dad sighed. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out when we get back. It’s getting dark. Get in.” He gestured to the RV. “Got some news for you, but we’ll talk on the way. The Savior are heading towards Alexandria again. We can’t risk the Saviors finding trouble with us.”

Carl questioningly boarded the RV with his dad. As he sat down, Michonne turned to face him while his dad took a seat right next to him.

“Good news or bad news.” Carl asked seriously.

“You would think it’s good news.”

Carl quirked his remaining eyebrow, but the effect was lost.

“Firstly, we got Daryl back.” Carl’s eyes widened. “He got out two nights ago when you came back with the Saviors. Michonne and I left for Hilltop at the last minute. We haven’t told you the reason then, but now we’re telling you everything. We have decided to fight back. You were right, Carl. You were always right. We have to fight, for all of us. That’s why we went to Hilltop. We wanted to find allies.”

“Did you?”

“Sort of. Gregory refuse to help, but we have some numbers from them that believed in us. It’s not much, but it’s something. We were also introduced to another settlement. It’s larger and stronger – the Kingdom. They don’t have guns, but they have the numbers. We’re looking to change their mind. That’s where Daryl is at.”

“What about Aaron? Have you heard from him about the supplies Father Gabriel took?”

“Not yet. But we can’t afford to go looking right now. Negan sent some men to Alexandria. We need to be there to keep watch.”

Carl nodded in understanding and smiled. “It _is_ good news.”

“Meanwhile, our greatest challenge is still appeasing Negan while getting a hold of weapons. How did you do out there today?”

“Ron, Mikey and Enid weren’t bad. They were nervous, but they weren’t stupid. Jim and Andy were the ones that screwed up. We still don’t know if Andy made it back safe. I doubt so.”

His dad nodded understandingly. Somehow along the way, this things stopped fazing them. People were all different, in different ways, and there was no helping it. They did what they could.

When they were back in Alexandria, Rick sent them all back so they didn’t have to deal with the Saviors. Ron and Carl walked back in silence. Carl thought that Ron would never have the courage to do what he did. That night must have been really traumatic, losing both his mom and his brother, then shooting Carl by accident. But Ron did good out there.

Ron turned and headed towards the empty house. Carl followed him to his door. “Ron.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to say thank you. You saved my life out there.”

Ron smiled self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, but you saved everyone else. Mikey, Enid, Andy, even Jim. You saved all of us.” He whispered, “And you saved mine.” Carl had the feeling Ron wasn’t referring to today.

“Ron. You need to let that go. It’s in the past, and I already told you I forgive you.”

Ron smiled sadly. “It’s not easy. I owe you too much.”

“Well, you paid that back when you saved my life just now. It was brave, and you did good.”

Ron stayed silent, staring wordlessly at Carl. He had been doing that more and more often lately. Carl felt like it was an impending danger he wouldn’t be able to get out of.

“So I’ll see you then?”

“…Yeah.” Carl smiled softly. Carl made his way down the street towards his home, hoping to get some rest.

 

The man at the door was vaguely familiar to Carl.

“Carl Grimes. I knew I would find you here.”

“That’s me. You’re Simon.”

“Good that you remember me, kid. The deal you had with Negan. You still up for it?”

He must seem like a monster, doing a deal with someone like Negan. But he’s seen first hand how something small would result in two people dying in the blink of an eye. What they needed the most now, was not food or supplies, but time.

“Do you need me to go with you now? It’s plenty late.”

“If it doesn’t matter to Negan, then it shouldn’t matter to you. Just an advice, you want to work for him, you best do exactly as he says, when he says.” Simon whispered the threat with an even face. He’s not the only monster working for Negan here.

“Let me say goodbye to my dad.”

“No can’t do. Get on with it.”

Simon grabbed Carl roughly, tugging him out onto the road and into a van. Nobody was around, and Carl couldn’t help but think this felt more like kidnapping than anything else.

They drove out of Alexandria with the other cars they brought with them, and nobody even paid the car Carl was in any attention.

Simon was much unlike Negan. Where Negan always seemed to be enjoying himself, Simon always seemed like cheap imitation, using the same tone of voice, same kind of posturing gestures. Carl didn’t even bother with him, just laid back in his seat and tried to get some sleep.

 

They arrived with little fanfare. He’d half expected Negan to be out here welcoming him.

“C’mon. Strutt.” Simon nudged him by his back again. Carl was getting really sick of the man casually laying his hand on him like he was beneath him, or like he was a kid.

Carl rolled his shoulder and walked away from Simon, earning an irritating smile on the man’s face.

It seemed like Negan was expecting Carl in his bedroom again. At this hour, Carl half expected the man to be naked in bed with one of his wives. His room was empty though. Then Carl felt Simon’s hand on his shoulder for the last time. He grabbed Simon’s hand and middle finger with his other hand, bending it back with all his strength. The resounding crack brought a self-satisfied smile to Carl’s face. The man screamed and tried to grab for his long hair in rage. Carl moved back out of range and unsheathed his dagger.

Simon knocked it out of his hand. Carl was then pushed onto the ground and had his breath knocked out of him.

Simon managed to dodge Carl’s fists and raised his good one to Carl’s face when a voice stopped them. “I have half a mind to get the both of you disowned, ‘cus that’s what you are right? Children?” Negan leaned against the doorway.

Simon’s breath shuddered. He stood up, turning around to face Negan.

“Ahhhh. That’s nasty. Did he? Did he fuckin’ dislocate your dick finger? Wow.”

Carl got back on his feet and marched at Simon. Negan held him back, back against Simon who he knew was well trained enough not to try anything. “Dismissed!” He called to Simon.

Carl only stopped struggling when he heard the door click shut.

“What the hell did you do that for? Hasn’t anyone taught you to get people to like you? I mean, you’re a cute kid, you just gotta made good use of that face!”

Carl side-eyed Negan. “Like how I’m supposed to scare people off with my eye? I’m not an idiot, you know? You’d do well not to treat me like one.”

A proud grin bloomed on Negan’s face. “Nawh. I wouldn’t. Cross my heart. Now, let’s get you sorted out.”

“You said you have work for me.”

“So I did. So I did.”

“Well? What is it?”

“See, before that, I need something from you.” Negan’s pleasantry disappeared. “What I have built here, we have rules. We have order! And that thing you just did, I can’t condone that. So I’m going to give you one chance to prove that you are not going to cause trouble for me.”

Negan leaned in close. “You’re going to go out there, walk among our people, and then you’re going to find dirt for me. On anyone. Your points, depend on how valuable that dirt is. You start another of that childish shit, people don’t trust you, you don’t get any intel and you get no points, and you never will. Simple. You finish this, and we’ll get started for real.”

“Where do I stay?”

“You’re lookin’ at it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious. As. Shit.”

Carl lifted his chin and pointedly took his plait shirt off, then casually dropped it on Negan’s bed where he sat and laid down.

“Wait a sec- Did you think- No! Jesus Christ, not my bed you prepubescent human. The couch!”

A soft chuckle drew Negan’s attention but by the time he turned back, Carl was expressionlessly climbing off the bed and towards the couch. Surprise flittered across Negan’s face. He couldn’t believe how he just let the kid off with a simple warning and gave him the same task he would have given him anyways. The kid really had him tied around his little finger, and the brat didn’t even know it. Of course, Negan would kill him if it came down to it, but he hoped that would never happen. You didn’t find tough talents like that every settlement.

Carl laid down and his breathing didn’t even out for a very long time – Negan was counting. It was probably an hour before he truly slept. Good, that meant the kid was not nearly as trusting kids his age should be. Bad, because as much as he wasn’t willing to admit it, he wanted to become close to the kid. Maybe even mentor him. That wasn’t going to happen as long as Carl still looked at him like he was his mortal enemy.

Carl woke up with a start the next day at the sound of the door being pushed open. Negan walked through the doorway holding a wide tray of pancakes, bacon and eggs and even juice. Carl side-eyed him like he was crazy, suppressing the desire for any of those food.

“That. That just wouldn’t do. I, your current employer, had brought you an exemplary fine dining for breakfast out of the goodness of my heart! And you aren’t even gonna eat it? Whatever do you take me for!” Negan said all that with a cheeky grin. Carl rolled his eyes and dropped the ‘What the hell do you want with me’ looks.

He took a bite of the pancake – something he hadn’t had for weeks since Negan began raiding them – and moaned unashamedly. If Negan thought he could be bought by pancakes, then that’s his mistake to make, Carl’s to exploit.

Eating pancakes with butter and maple syrup again was almost a dream come true. This was what luxury constituted in their world.

After he finished the pancakes, he got started with the good ol’ American breakfast. It was beautiful. If Negan was going to charge him points for this, it was worthed it.

“Consider this your employee meal for the day. I don’t feed freeloaders, so you better hope you bring back something useful for me.”

Having Carl look into his own people for him had two big disadvantages. One, people didn’t trust Carl enough to let their lips loose. Two, Carl could turn them against each other if he played Negan well, which Negan doubt so but let’s assume the worst case scenario.

There was also a major advantage, and that was the fact that Carl had no conflict of interest with ratting people out. He didn’t know the people here. He didn’t care about the people here. And right now, it was precisely the people in a position of power, the people he trusted that were the threats he would possibly be blindsided by. If Carl would dig them out for him, then good. If he didn’t, then it was no different to Negan anyway. The least possible outcome was that Carl had managed to flip people on him, which would have happened even if Carl wasn’t given this particular task, and the likelihood was close to nil. Carl’s group killed a ton of their own people. They weren’t going to forget that.

So all in all, Carl could actually do some useful work for him here. Consider this initiation. If he passed this and managed to build some rapport with the people here, Negan had half a mind to hand off some authority to Carl, see if he could make the kid something more than what he was with his dad. Subjected to how much Negan could trust Carl.

Carl ignored him like he was naggy parent, offending Negan to no end yet simultaneously amusing him.

Carl finished the breakfast and started off his day walking through the halls warily. He might be desensitised to Negan’s ball-breaking for now, but this was still the lion’s den to him. He wasn’t going to live forever, but he certainly wasn’t going to get killed here of all places.

Guards on the corridors that led up to Negan’s bedroom eyed him with not just distrust in their eyes, but also disgust. Carl’s eyes darted about the place, cataloguing everything knowing they might need it someday. The first level was crowded and busy, and Carl didn’t think he could go there and not stick out like a sore thumb. He strolled about and stumbled upon the infirmary. It was empty except for a doctor, who welcomed him in.

“You’re Carl, right?”

Carl stayed silent.

“It’s okay. Everyone knows you here by now. You’ve actually seen me before.  At your first Ironing. I fixed the guy up afterwards.”

Carl nodded and summoned a small smile to seem friendly.

“I’m Dr Carson. I was actually from Hilltop. Heard you’ve been there a few times.” He seemed more hesitant. “Can you tell me how it’s doing? And not tell anyone I asked? I just want to know how my home is…”

“Everyone’s fine. Gregory’s taking care of them.”

Carson snortled. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. That old fool knows nothing.”

“I haven’t been there a while… Last I heard, they are all fine.”

Carson sighed. “Thanks kid. Better than nothing I guess. No news if the best news, so they say. Heard you broke Simon’s middle finger last night. You might not want to get on his bad side. I know it might not look it, but he has a lot of power around here, and he’s not as easy to talk to as Negan. He doesn’t usually like to listen to what people have to say.”

“Then what about Gavin?”

“He’s… impulsive, I suppose.”

“And Regina?” Dr Carson eyed him with a start. “Maybe I’m not the best person to be talking about this to. I’ll see you out.”

Carl nodded and left. “Just hope you remember: Hilltop’s doing okay.”

Carson’s eyes widened slightly, not knowing whether this youthful looking boy was just offering a sincere comment, or was threatening tell on him for asking after Hilltop, if he reported his questions to others. Dr Carson escorted him towards the main concourse anyway, and Carl saw the man, Dwight walking past them, looking surprised to see him. His eyes bore intently into Dr Carson when the man was distracted.

Dr Carson stopped walking as if he were to send Carl off, then Carl held onto his scrubs. “Wait, I really don’t know the way around here. Maybe you should show me back to Negan’s room. I would hate for him to not find me when he needs me.”

Carl had already memorised the paths before. He took the opportunity to sneak off when Dr Carson wasn’t looking and doubled back to Dr Carson’s office. He made it back just in time to see Dwight leaving the office hurriedly, a piece of torn and crumpled paper in his hands, which he burnt outside the building.

**Something’s wrong.**

Carl spent his time walking around aimlessly, ignoring the eyes on his back. At least his eye, or lack thereof, was covered today. Walking around, he saw a few familiar faces, including Dwight, who Daryl sworn against. He neared the first floor where ‘workers’ stayed. Carl jerked in surprise, quickly ducking his head and hugging his hat to his chest. Just a short distance away, stood Eugene. He hugged a jar of pickles to his chest and was led away. Carl wanted to go up ahead and have a talk with him but both of them being seen together would work against both their credibility.

The lady he was with led him up the staircase and outside of the compound. Carl casually went after them and listened in at the door.

He could hear Negan’s voice. Eugene was entirely too fearful. Negan didn’t even have to raise his voice for Eugene to cower in fear. Then Eugene brought out the same lie he told Abraham’s crew to impress Negan. Carl snorted. Negan didn’t give a fuck about people’s past. He only cared about what people could do for him at present. People was the greatest resource, he always said. Soon after, Negan tested him and Eugene passed with flying colours, earning him a place in this compound.

Carl felt eyes on him and spun back, seeing a person hurriedly turn the corner around the hallway. It resembled Dwight.

He went back to Negan’s room and lay in comfort for the rest of the day, pretending to be relaxing like he had the right in front of Negan’s men.

He took the time after dinner when guard is low to scout the buildings. He quickly made it past everyone and headed for the far side of the building Negan hadn’t shown him to.

The halls were quiet and doors lined both sides of the walls. The doors were all heavy metal and had built in locks that couldn’t be picked. It made him wonder what kind of building this used to be. After checking every door without response, he started to head back the way he came but voices came down the hall and increased in volume. Carl quickly squatted down in the shadowy corner. It sounded like a man and some ladies. They didn’t even turn into this hall, just straight past it, it seemed.

Carl found the male voice particularly familiar, yet he couldn’t place it. The sound of a door opening and closing came. They must have gone outside. The door opening and closing would likely alert them to his presence if they were close by, but he had to try. He could always say he was just running errands for Negan if they discovered him. Negan had to cover for him. Carl bravely stalked forward and pushed the door open slowly, realising the outside seemed empty. The voices were further away now.

Carl tried to follow but he couldn’t tell where exactly had they disappeared to, so he hid, and waited. Soon enough, the four figures reappeared.

Eugene!

He was walking with two of Negan’s wives, and a third leaned against a fence despondently. Suddenly, the door slammed open a metre from him. Carl managed to hide in the shadows quickly. The ladies dismissed the man easily and they proceeded on to have some fun, then returned. Carl listened in when he could, but it seemed like there wasn’t anything useful on them

He remembered the name of the lady drinking against the fence – Amber. She was the one that had relations with another man, which Negan ironed. She was clearly intoxicated, and was only going to get more drunk. Carl waited so he could follow Eugene back to his room then left for the night.

Nothing was going to happen overnight.

 

Negan trudged to his bedroom, prepared to put on his usual devil may care grin for Carl’s view but his preparations were for nothing. Carl was already asleep in his bed, a bowl of grapes on the nightstand. He was softly snoring, face relaxed and cheeks soft. It was really easy to forget the boy was barely sixteen, at the cusp of his teenagehood. Children this age were in the last stages of malleability. There was no telling when they would go from impressionable youth a day, and a budding independent thinker the next. But Carl… he seemed to have past that age a goddamn long time ago.

Negan was not fooled. Carl had his own priorities and plans in mind.

As honest as his words and actions in front of Negan was, the kid was not what it seemed on the surface, and that was precisely what Negan liked about the kid. But sometimes, when it’s all quiet, Negan would look at Carl and feel sad for him. His parents raised him to be kind, but not strong enough to support that kindness. They raised him tough enough to rise to the occasion, but not how to handle the emotional backlash. The end result, was this Carl that he was seeing, hurt and broken but still gritting his teeth and fighting on. Carl reminded him of himself. He hoped the day when it all came crashing down on this kid would never come, not like it did Negan.

Negan pulled the comforter over Carl’s shoulders and got ready for bed.

 

Carl woke up in softness and warmth. First thing he noticed was he was in Negan’s bed. Second was that the bed was tilted to one side form a heavy weight. Carl jumped out of bed, registering the loud snoring coming from Negan. Carl softly walked over to that side of bed, eyeing the vulnerable man and feeling the dagger in his holster.

 

The presence in front of him remained there for a very long time. Even Negan’s goosebumps were on high alert, waiting for the moment threat showed itself, but it never did. Carl walked away. Negan had never been that happy since he fucked Sherry for the first time. **Did I just win Carl over? Shit my ass out!**

 

_Carl shadowed Negan for today. He wasn’t allowed in most meetings except for the really unimportant ones that didn’t even need Negan to be there. In front of Negan, there was no scoop to be had. But one thing was for sure, Dwight was subtly watching him. It wouldn’t have been obvious to him, had Dwight not been deliberately ignoring his presence unlike the other lieutenants that stared in suspicion._

_Negan was even more upbeat than usually, as everyone could tell. He kept striking up conversation with Carl, even inappropriate ones, sounding like parents interrogating their children over the dining table._

_“No.”_

_“You, sir, are shitting me and Lucille both, and that not okay! C’mon you must’ve had one crush before!”_

_Well, he had a crush on Ron sure, but knowing Negan liked to poke at people’s weak spots, he was never going to tell._

_“Then bases? How far did you go?”_

_“You know already.”_

_“I don’t mean that. That doesn’t count!” While it was nice that Negan didn’t treat what happened like some sort of taboo unlike Michonne and his dad, it was still annoying._

_“Then zero then.”_

_“That is very unhealthy. Tell you what, pick one of my wives and I’ll send ‘em to you for the night. Free of charge. What do you say? Frankie and Tanya are free tonight. I-”_

_“I thought sex is off the table?”_

_Negan looked momentarily shocked at the reference to his conversation with Eugene. He didn’t know Carl was listening in._

_Negan whistled. “Look who’s doing their breadmaking job right. Looks like I’ve got nada to worry about.”_

_Dwight’s eye sent shivers up Carl’s back._

 

Carl was walking mindlessly back from Dwight’s to Negan’s room that night with a heavy heart. His mind debated the choices he had but hushed whispers from the sitting room where Negan’s wives usually stayed at caught his attention. He didn’t think it was a big deal but then the ladies he saw with Eugene the previous night left the room warily. They were going somewhere.

 _‘Frankie and Tanya are free tonight.’_ Negan had said. **So why are they going out?**

Carl followed behind them to Eugene’s bedroom. He heard everything, how they asked Eugene for a pill for Amber. A pill to kill herself peacefully.

Carl jerked back. It didn’t add up, Eugene was a smart guy. He might not be good with people, but he could think fast. There was only so many ways this could go.

The choice was obvious, rat out Dwight, the person Daryl had sworn against who was most likely bullshitting him anyway. Or rat out Eugene, someone from Alexandria who might still be loyal to them, considering he agreed to make Frankie and Tanya the pill knowing what it meant.

The choice was obvious.

 

_He snuck off from Negan later in the afternoon when he was engaged in a meeting._

_Carl leaned against the corridor wall. He heard some movement inside and wasn’t startled when the door finally opened. Dwight jumped back at seeing him. “What do you want?”_

_“That should be my line.”_

_Dwight considered him for a long time._

_“Who are you?”_

_Carl furrowed his brows._

_“Who are-”_

_“Are you nuts?”_

_Dwight gave a sigh of relief. “Why are you here then?”_

_“I assumed you wanted to talk.” **Considering you’ve been staring at me for the whole day.**_

_“There’s nothing to talk about.”_

_“What about what you did in Dr Carson’s office when he’s not around?”_

_Dwight’s eyes widened at him. His hands reached for Carl’s collar but Carl kicked him and pointed his dagger. “I wouldn’t do that.”_

_“Negan wouldn’t believe you over me.”_

_“Continue believing that.”_

_“What exactly do you want?”_

_Carl lowered his dagger. “I’m giving you a chance to talk. If you won’t then I will. To Negan.”_

_Carl eyes Dwight emotionlessly._

_“I…” Dwight walked into his room and grabbed his hair. Carl closed the door behind himself. “Sherry, my exwife, she let Daryl go. If I don’t pin this on someone else, then I go down.”_

_“You wouldn’t.”_

_“Maybe not now, but Negan will make me pay sooner or later.”_

_Carl leaned against the dresser in the corner unworriedly. “Why should I help you?”_

_Dwight hesitated. “Who are you?”_

_“Again?” Carl asked exasperatedly._

_“It’s some sort of pledge here. We are Negan. That’s what we all believe, or at least most of us. But I- I’m not. Not anymore. Everything I did, I did to protect us. Sherry. Tina. They were all I had.” Dwight’s breath shuddered. He pointed to his own face. “Negan did this to us. Took Sherry away. I did everything to protect them…”_

_“Where’s Sherry?”_

_“She left. She let Daryl go, so if she’s caught, there’s no way out for her. I can’t let Negan find out about her! He will hunt her down, and kill her.”_

_“That’s not why you sabotaged Dr Carson. You’re trying to protect yourself.”_

_Dwight exhaled. “You’re right. Ask me why. Ask me. Ask me why.”_

_Carl steeled his nerves despite seeing the bloodthirsty expression on Dwight’s face. “…why?”_

_“So I can kill Negan.”_

 

Negan entered the room, fantastic mood being in Carl’s company for almost the whole day. “Honey, I’m home~!”

Carl was sitting on the bed with a solemn expression.

Negan looked at the kid questioningly. He had half expected Carl to be sleeping again.

“We need to talk about Sherry.”

 

_Dwight tore off the last part of Sherry’s last words to him. ‘Goodbye. – Honey’_

_He put it underneath Carson’s patient logs, and made his way out of the infirmary. Something twisted in his chest._

_Fear._

 

Eugene was dragged out to the factory in the middle of his game. His handler was rough. She pushed him forward unceremoniously, bringing him

From the second level to the first level.

The large furnace in the middle of the enclosure was spitting heat into the place, causing sweat to bead behind Eugene’s neck and under his pits. Everyone eyed him like beasts at a prey.

It felt like he was the only one not knowing what was going on. He raised his head and on the other side, Carl stood on the second level railing, staring intently everywhere but at him.

Then, Negan walked into the circle. Amber started to cry immediately, hiding in the other ladies’ chest.

Eugene was pushed to the front where the heat made him suffocate.

 

_“There was something about Dr Carson. I’m still not very sure. I was just walking around on my first night and all. Then I heard a familiar voice. Eugene.”_

_“Dr Smartypants.”_

_“Sure whatever.” Carl shrugged. He sighed. “I followed them out back and they started messing with chemicals.”_

_“I hope you don’t think I’m going to reward you handsomely for a bone any dog of mine can sniff out. You’re smarter than this, come on!”_

 

Dr Carson was kneeling on the ground in fear.

 

_“I stayed out back until they went in. Guess who came out after?” Negan raised one eyebrow._

_“Dr Carson. He was burning a piece of scratch paper.”_

_“I thought it was weird so I went to look through his office today.” Carl handed over the torn slip of paper. ‘Goodbye. – Honey’ Now I can’t tell whose handwriting is this, but I heard there was one of your wives that went missing recently. I’m guessing this had something to do with that. It’s not the complete story. I can find out more if-“_

_Negan held out a hand to halt him, face the complete physical representation of a storm._

_“Stay in the room and go to sleep.” Negan remarked coldly._

_He then left the room. Carl loosened a breath._

 

Eugene shook, “Wh-What is this?”

“Rite of passage for all newcomers to see this. You'll find out. You are gonna want to pay close attention to this.”

Negan swung Lucille close to Dr Carson’s face. “I found this little souvenir tucked away in your desk. Something tells me…”

“Ohh! No, no, no, no! Why?” He choked, “I didn't do anything. I-I-I don't know what that is.”

Negan sighed softly… Then rammed Lucille against Dr Carson’s gut. “Unh!” He coughed.

“You left the door open and let my puppy out. You knew Sherry hated Daryl being here, so you let him out for her, be the hero. Then you could move in. That is some weaselly shit right there.” Negan eyed Dwight, who manned the burning iron. Dwight nodded. Carl watched the exchange with a blank face, hands gripping the railing bars tightly.

“But I didn't! She's the one who ran-”

“Oh, she ran? You know why she ran?! Because she knew I would blame her, which I did. But, see, Sherry told Dwighty boy the whole story right before she was torn apart. A super hot girl, horrifically killed because of your greedy, delusional, and tiny little prick.”

“It's not true. Dwight? He's lying about it.”

“I would never do that.”

“Why? Why? Why would he do that? Why would he intentionally try to hurt you? Sherry's gone. And if he's lying and she's out there, I will find her. And then I will burn the other side of his face off until he dies. So, what was he gonna get out of this? No. No. You see, I know my Dwighty boy. See, all he needed was one more night in the hole, get his head screwed on straight. It worked before, and it worked now. Ain't that right, Dwight?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dwight responded.

Carson cried, “Oh, please. No, please. Please, please, please! Oh, Jesus, don't burn me. Please!  Please! No. No, no, please!”

“Now you know I hate this shit. Just tell me you did it and that you're sorry, and I don't have to do this.”

“Yes. Yes, I did it – all of it. Sorry. I'm so sorry. Please I'm sorry.”

“That's all you had to say. That is all you had to say…” Negan throw Dr Carson head-first into the furnace.

Eugene shook. The only thing he had in his mind was the two pills sitting in his drawer that made himnearly pee his pants.

“A good thing we got a spare Dr Carson. I trust you, Dwighty boy. Never should’ve doubted ya. Sherry was one of my favorites. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not.” Dwight said.

“Ice-cold. I love it.”

 

Eugene looked up at the railing and noticed – Carl was gone.

 

“So tell me about your day, honey.”

“You have any idea how weird it is that you treat me like your kid, then turn around and call me ‘honey’? Where I come from, this is called workplace harassment.”

“Look at that mouth on you.” Negan laughed. He was laying on his own bed and Carl beside him with a fruit tray in his lap. “Don’t try to be cute. C’mon, tell me.”

“Can I bring some grapes back for Judith?”

Negan glanced at Carl in surprise, whose head was lowered. Negan didn’t notice Carl had stopped eating while they sat together. The grapes were plucked of one by one and lay still in the tray in Carl’s hands, an empty stalk rested to the side.

“Please. I won’t eat anything for the whole day tomorrow.”

Carl had to power to make him wordless. And he was using that power expertly.

 

Negan’s steps were heavy behind him. Voices came from the inside of Eugene’s room clearly.

“Give us the pills, or we'll tell Negan about it. We'll tell him that it was your idea to make them and that you tried to get us to help.”

“That would be a tactical error on your part. They'll believe me over you for the same reason he believed Dwight over the doctor. You're replaceable to him. I, on the other hand, am not.”

They walked to the bend around the corner and waited for the heeled footsteps to disappear. Carl leaned calmly against the wall, noticing the look of pride on Negan’s face. He’d not only sucked Eugene up his ass, but also the future serial killer.

Negan tried to walk forward, mostly to talk to Eugene, but also to get that pill. Carl stopped him in his step with a hand on his stomach. Negan looked extremely pleased and Carl snatched his hands away with a blush. He reached into his pocket and held it up. It’s a single pill in a transparent ziplock bag.

Negan whistled. “Wow. Papa’s boy work fast!” He dropped it onto the ground and stomped on it, crushing the bag and the pill inside. Negan’s burning gaze seemed to promise retribution if Carl had any ill will. “Good fucking job kid. You’ll make a good second-in-command someday.”

Carl took his comment as a joke. “Well, I can’t stay here and be your lapdog slash spy forever.” Carl was started to sound like that dick, damn it. Carl shrugged and walked off, leaving things to Negan, but stayed around the corner.

Negan and Eugene talked in the room. Negan was soft, but Eugene’s voice was unmistakeable.

“Who are-“

“I’m Negan. I’m utterly, completely, stone-cold Negan. I was Ne…” Carl’s fists clenched, fighting between the urge to laugh hysterically at how pathetic it was, and how pitiful it was. He had known that was what Eugene would choose the minute he saw Eugene’s broken and hopeless face down at the ironing that afternoon. That was why he rushed back to Eugene’s room to steal those pills – kept one for himself and gave one to Negan. Because everything was written clear as day on Eugene’s face. That he would do anything not to end up dead. That he would do anything to survive. And that was why Carl gave up on him.

Carl stepped away and left. On the lower level where Dwight supposedly resided, the man was smoking. Carl paused and continued walking, clenching a roll of message in his hand and a packet of a pill in Dwight’s.

 

“How do you like it here? Eh? With the gelatos and the pretty ladies. Nothin’ you gon get back in Alexandria, am I right? Things growing boys need.” Negan’s voice roused Carl from the half-asleep state he was in. He was in Negan’s bed again tonight.

Carl’s brain filters were all down. “Don’t like it.”

Negan’s smile fell. “Really?”

“Yea…”

“Why?” Negan held his breath.

Carl stayed quiet for a long time. Negan though he might be asleep already. His breath was evened out so he couldn’t really be pretending.

Carl didn’t know how to pretend.

“I… it’s not… a family…”

An anonymous hurt and anger flashed through him, but left him high and dry.

“My dad… loves them… you don’t…” Negan’s fist tightened. “…care…”

 

Carl sat in the driver’s seat in the truck Negan was sitting shotgun in. They were in the lead with three vans behind them. It’s collection day at Alexandria. Carl hugged the small basket of grapes in his arms preciously. He put one into his mouth while Negan wasn’t looking, a bad thought suddenly appearing in his mind. It was illogical, but the fear that clenched his heart made it necessary to check.

“So how much points have I gotten, and how much are they worth?”

“That’s corporate sec-”

“Don’t bullshit me. You say it now and you stick to it. How would I know if you change your mind in the heat of anger?”

Negan chuckled. “You brought me quality dirt on two accounts. Both are life-and-death matters. I’ll say two lives are fair, wouldn’t you? But fair’s fair. You have to keep your people in line. You don’t get to let them shoot down two of my men can call us even.”

“How does that translate into goods?”

Negan’s eyes sparkled. “One life for 10 percent of your offerings.”

Carl frowned. “That’s how much your life is worth?”

Negan went wide-eyed. “Balls of steel, why do I always forget that? Fine, 20 percent. That’s as high as I’ll go.”

“Fine.”

His dad looked at him anxiously as they drove in. Carl got off the truck and hugged him.

“Are you hurt?” He looked at Carl worriedly. “I only found out that you’ve been taken the next day. God I was so worried.”

“I’m alright, dad. Where’s Judy? I want to see her.”

“Hey, take me along.” Negan hung his arm over Carl’s shoulder unceremoniously. His dad’s face shuttered and turned into outrage, definitely assuming the worse based on how touchy Negan was being.

Carl threw Negan’s arm off to reassure his dad that nothing happened and dragged him off before Negan followed.

 

Carl sat on their couch with Judy in his arms and Michonne beside him. Judy grabbed his hat off him again and tried to bite on it. “Naw, love. It’s dirty.” Carl smiled at his darling sister. Michonne laughed at the adorable siblings. Carl had a sweet smile on his face shining with motherly love. Michonne brushed Carl’s hatless hair, fierce love occupying her being for the first boy in her life since Andre.

Rick opened the door and walked into this scene, allowing all the tension to flow out of his person.

He took a seat next to Carl so Carl sat between him and Michonne.

Judith squealed happily in Carl’s lap and played with his fingers. “Cah-uu!” Carl’s face brightened. Rick had a wide smile. Baby Judith’s first word: Cah-uu. “She missed me.” Carl gasped tearfully. “Oh, sweetie, I missed you more.” Carl held her to his chest lovingly. He plucked one grape and put it in Judith’s mouth.

“Where’d you get that?” Carl saw the panic in his dad’s eyes.

“Relax, I ate it first. It’s not poisonous.”

Michonne frowned, as if there was something Carl didn’t understand. Carl continued focusing his attention on his baby sister.

“You don’t have to leave us anymore.” Rick said meaningfully, changing the subject.

“Why?”

“We’re ready.”

 

Rick shook his head at the message on the paper. ‘Don’t trust scavengers.’

Dwight might be lying to us. Carl sighed. If he was, how would they know their name? How would he know they exist?

“We can’t trust this man. That’s final.”

Carl turned to look at Michonne pleadingly.

“Rick, Carl had a point. We cannot afford to operate on a hunch.”

“Exactly. If I bring this and confront Jadis, we are going to jeopardise everything.”

“But what if it’s true?”

“Carl. People aren’t what they seem on the surface. Negan looks like a decent man too, but remember what he did to Glenn!”

Carl crushed the piece of paper and stormed out.

“Rick…”

 

Life returned to normal after that, or at least, as normal as it could get. Carl’s days were spent loving on Judith and preparing for Negan’s arrival next week.

The bad feeling remained and grew stronger when Carl wasn’t summoned to the sanctuary for a whole week, and Sasha was caught by the Saviors.

It all came to heads soon. Negan came for them, after all, carrying a coffin. Carl met Dwight’s eye discretely, receiving a reassuring look from him. His heart sank at the thought of Sasha but he kept himself focused. His gun was at the ready, but when it is raised, it’s going to be at Jadis, who was back towards Carl. Carl might be shot in process, but so be it.

As Carl had expected, Sasha came out of the coffin a walker and Carl took advantage of the shock to shoot Jadis in the head, freeing his dad. A shot rang out behind him and his right side exploded in pain. It’s precisely the same spot he was shot in before. Carl raised another pistol in his left hand and shot the man in the head. A shootout ensued between the Scavengers and Alexandrians. In the midst of it, Carl was kicked to the floor, multiple times aimed at his gunshot wound.

It tore, badly. He could feel it.

They did not win, even with the scavengers retreated.

Carl was pushed kneeling onto the floor in front of Negan who stared at him with an ice-cold face. Carl looked back unapologetically. Carl thought he saw a whisper of hurt, but it was gone even before Carl blinked.

His dad was captured soon after and pushed down next to Carl.

“Rick. This is just gonna make you sad. Broken. You're gonna wish you were dead. I like having fun. I do. But maybe you think that the guy that did what he did to your friends wasn't me, like that was some sort of a put-on, like I'm not the guy with the bat -- I'm just the guy that makes your kid spaghetti. Oh. Oh, shit. Maybe this is on me. Maybe this is all on me. I gotta make it right. I guess I gotta start all over again. I gotta tell you, Rick, if I had a kid, I'd want him to be just like your kid, tough, hard – so hard, so, so hard – to break. Which makes this so much harder.”

Carl resisted, even while his father’s gaze was still unfocused. “You're not gonna win.”

Negan’s eyes wet, which only made him open them wider to hide them tears. “Carl. It is over. Why don't you point your one ball up the street there and take it all in?”

Someone fell from the balcony in the distance.

“Oh. Wow. You just lost somebody important to you right now -- like, just now. Jesus. That is timing. Well, Rick you chose this. I truly don't know what more I could've done to warn you. And this isn't a warning. This is punishment. I'm gonna kill Carl now. I'm gonna make it one nice, hard swing, try to do it in one because I _like_ him. I just want you to put that in your brain and roll it around for a minute. I'm gonna kill Carl, and then Lucille here, she's gonna take your hands.”

“You can do it right in front of me. You can take my hands. I told you already -- I'm gonna kill you. All of you.  Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but nothing is gonna change that -- nothing. You're all already dead.”

“Damn. Wow, Rick. Okay. You said I could do it. Did you hear that Carl? He _said_ I can do it!”

Carl refused to give Negan the satisfaction of him feeling abandoned by his own father. Carl understood his dad. He did. Besides, his dad was the person to give him his life anyway.

Negan ignored the stab in his heart and grabbed the hat off of Carl. If only Rick begged. If he JUST BEGGED!

“Last call, Carl. Two lives.” Negan gritted out. “Say it.” **Say you want to live.**

“Rick and Judith.” Carl gasped. As if trying to convince himself, “Rick and Judith,” Carl repeated.

Negan raised his bat in an upswing before he could stop himself and heard an inhumane roar behind him.

_What the…_

Negan was forced to take cover behind a car and Carl grabbed his dad and ran. And fought. Suffered through the pain in his side.

 

The shootout ended with Carl watching Negan leave by the truck, eyes filled with disappointment at Carl.

**I don’t owe you, Negan.**

Carl repeated that mantra over the whole day, recalling his resolve to kill Negan no matter what. The empty jar that was used to hold grapes still sat on their kitchen tabletop.

 

_Carl held onto her hands tightly as if he could stop her from leaving him just by doing so. His baby sister stayed quiet in the background, bearing witness to his brother’s greatest heartbreak._

_"You are smart, and you are strong and you are so brave," his mom said. "And I love you. You gotta do what's right. Promise me you'll always do what's right. It's so easy to do the wrong thing in this world, so if it feels wrong, don't do it, if it feels easy don't do it, don't let the world spoil you."_

_Carl blinked his eyes closed, tears dripping down his cheeks._

Carl opened his eyes in bed. His breath shuddered. He raised a hand to his face to cover his eyes from the sun so he could recover, but the hand came away wet.

Beside him, his baby sister squirmed. He lay on his side so he could pet her gently, coaxing her back to sleep. She looked just like mom. Carl inched closer so he could hug her to his chest. Judith keened and grabbed onto his shirt tightly, going back to her dreamland.

Knocks sounded at the door. He dad pushed in, “Hey bud.”

“Mornin’”

Rick stepped inside and sat on the bed on Judith’s side. “You both slept well.”

Carl nodded. Judith chose that moment to open her eyes, as if she didn’t want to miss the two most important men in her life love on her.

“Paa- lub ew. Cah-uu.” Carl chuckled. “Love you too sweetie.”

Rick flicked Carl on the forehead. “C’mon. We gotta go.”

“Yes, Mr Sheriff.”

“Yes, Mista Shewweeb!!” Judith copied Carl then laughed at her own silliness. Carl hugged her to his chest and brought her along to brush his teeth. He set her on the counter like he did every morning. His darling sister occupied herself with making stupid faces and laughing at it.

Maybe because Judith was raised in an unusual environment, Carl thought the baby was very perceptive. Her speech patterns developed slightly slower, but Carl could see understanding in her eyes. He felt that she always knew when she had to be silent and when she was safe, proving she was actually more observant than they gave her credit for.

Carl got ready to go beyond the walls, with his sister in his arms, turning her away when he checked his waist wound. It was torn badly the night before, about a palm-width, which was now hastily stitched. They only had few anaesthesia left over from Hilltop. Even if the effectiveness was still at their peak, the amount they had still made Carl scream his throat raw that night.

The others were no longer expected, or even approved to leave Alexandria nowadays, just to prevent people from ending up in Negan’s hands. Because of that, they couldn’t really spare people that were capable enough to scavenge out, including Carl. Carl drove off first, followed by his dad, splitting up at the first bend. Carl continued driving for the gas station 3 miles ahead but stopped intermittently when he came across abandoned vehicles or rest stops.

The gas station appeared completely empty. He headed to a vehicle that had significantly less dust than the others, which meant it was less likely to have been sucked dry already.

“Hi.”

Carl was startled into dropping the petrol pump and drawing his gun at the air.

“Yeah.” The voice continued. “I-I'm okay. I mean I'm not, but I've been shot at. Someone threw a microwave at me. So I-I'm just gonna say something my mom used to say and hope for the best here.”

Carl’s heart beat heavily. Please let him be okay. His dad is counting on him. Judith is counting on him…

“‘Whatever you have of good, spend on the traveler.’ My mom said that -- that helping the traveler, the person without a home – that's everything.” **My mom told me to do that right thing. That’s not always easy, now is it?** Carl pinpoint the direction the voice must be coming from and slowly walked forward.

“I'm sure you've seen things, been through things, that you don't trust people… I get it. I get it. I don't, either…” **Then why call out to me? Because I look easy? Or because you are desperate?** His dad’s warnings came to mind. Carl wasn’t always the best judge at people, but he’d been in and out of the savior’s lair two times. They couldn’t come up with words like this no matter how hard they tried.

“…I've been through things, too.” Carl leaned into the ground underneath a car.

“My mom – she also said that, ‘May my mercy prevail over my wrath.’ It's not all my mom. That – That one – That's from the Quran. Probably shouldn't have said that.” **Yea… Merle would have pressed the kill button just based on that.** “I don't even know you, but I ha-- I haven't eaten in a few days.” **So, desperate then… I know how that feels like.** The day he spent investigating a town himself because he was starving came to mind. The night he dropped the gun and waited for death came to mind.

There… Carl saw him.

“You might not even be real.”

“Hands up.” Carl growled.

“Listen. I'm gone. Huh? It's cool. I just -- I just wanted some -- e-even just some food.” Carl swallowed and was going to put his gun down but gunshots fired. His first thought was that he was tricked, but then the man ran and no bullet came close to where he stood. His dad ran in, firing at the sky.

His dad said something about them meeting somewhere but all Carl could think of was that he failed his mom. **My mom told me to do that right thing…**

His dad must notice his expression. “I shot over his head. I just wanted him gone,” he explained.

He had always tried to understand his dad, see where he was coming from or at least follow his opinions. Tried. But listening to what his dad was saying… ‘Hope’… What a joke.

 

Carl woken up at dawn. He made his way to the gas station from the day before and left two cans of food and a message. ‘Sorry.’ It wasn’t enough either, but it was better than ‘hope’.

 

“Carl. Stay back here. Keep everyone safe.” His dad told him. “I trust you,” he bumped his fist on Carl’s chest.

Carl nodded silently. His dad hugged him and Michonne.

Carl stood behind with Michonne. “I know you wanted to go with him. I did, too.”

“But I’ll help you defend this place.”

“Help me?” Carl asked with a little bit of confusion.

“Oh yeah.” Michonne replied with amusement. “This is your show.”

Carl scoffed. Michonne held onto his waist tight. “You’ll see.”

 

Carl waited, as his people sent the troops off.

 

Carl waited, as Judith giggled and bit his hat.

 

Carl waited at the watchtower, but the roads leading home remained empty.

 

Carl waited.

 

Then he set out.

 

The empty plastic bag fluttered in the wind.

He appeared. He stabbed the walker. He reached for the bag. Carl swallowed nervously, trying his best not to spook the guy. His cans were taken when he went to the gas station earlier. Hopefully it meant it was eaten and not stolen by someone else. Thankfully, he managed to find him in the area after all.

“Hey.” The man jumped as high in the air as he did. “It was my dad. There – There were warning shots above your head. He wasn't shooting at you.”

Carl stepped closer… “I'm Carl.”

Carl smiled softly.

“Siddiq.”

“Food and water.” Carl raised the bag in his hand, packaged with a large piece of cake and a bottle of water.

“Why?”

“I guess you – you were talking about something your mom said about helping people. And my mom told me that you got to do what's right. It's hard to know what that is sometimes, but sometimes it's not.” Carl spoke honestly and threw the bag low towards Siddiq. Relief bloomed in his heart seeing Siddiq gulp the water down.

“Thanks.”

“Glad I found you.”

“You were looking for me?”

“Yeah, I – I scavenged the sardines, other stuff. Me and my dad, we're in a community. I'm gonna ask you a few questions. I need you to answer honestly, okay?”

“Okay.”

“How many walkers have you killed? I know it's hard to keep track of-”

“Two hundred and thirty-seven.”

“Really?”

“Give or take a couple.”

“How many people have you killed?”

“One.”

“Why?”

“The dead tried to kill him, but they didn't.”

Carl gestured to the spikes sticking out of the floor. “You're making walker traps. Is that how you killed so many?”

“It's – It’s only part of it. My mom thought or hoped that killing them would free their souls. You know? Maybe – Maybe she was right.”

“Doing that, doesn't that just make things harder for you while you're trying to survive?”

“I – I don't know. I- But you gotta -- you gotta honor your parents, right?”

Carl snorted. “If I was honoring my dad, we wouldn't be talking right now. And definitely wouldn't bring you back to my community. Would you come?”

Carl eyed the bloody knife in Siddiq’s hand, but stepped closer and reached his hand out.

Siddiq visibly shook, but took his hand nonetheless.

They set a quick pace towards Alexandria but came upon a clearing where three walkers were feeding on an animal.

Carl eyed Siddiq. “For your mom.”

They advanced steadily.

One walker should have been manageable for Carl, but his waist twinged in severe pain whenever his right arm was activated. He was unable to push the walker back, but was instead pushed onto his back against the carcass of the animal. He couldn’t roll away and he couldn’t push hard enough.

Soon enough, another walker came at him clenching his jaws and throat churning. Carl barely had enough strength to keep it away, then his heart stopped when he felt something clamp down on his flesh over his shirt. The spot on his waist flared in pain.

**I- I’m…**

The sound of fabric tearing resonated in his mind and he felt something pull away from his waist. The walker tore the bandage off together with pieces of his clothes. The whole batch of fabric was dripping with fresh blood and pieces of flesh.

Adrenaline rushed through Carl’s veins. He unholstered his gun from his left pocket and relied solely on his right hand to hold the walker off, no longer feeling the intense burning on his entire right side.

Both walkers were taken care of in the next second.

Carl wanted to let himself go limp with fear and exhaustion but the adrenaline pumping in his veins pulled him up.

Siddiq approached him fearfully. “You okay?”

Carl swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.”

“You could’ve left.”

Carl seemed to be hesitating. He looked elsewhere silently.

He swallowed frantically. He breathed evenly. He opened his eye wide and looked up, waited until it was dry…

“Carl.”

Carl’s resolve was apparent. His gaze was strong and his stance was firm. “I'm responsible for you now. That's how it works.” Siddiq’s hand trembled. “I don't want to make any trouble. Your dad didn't want anything to do with me.”

“He didn't, but sometimes kids have to find their own way to show their parents the way.”

He brought Siddiq to the sewer entrance on the outside of Alexandria to sneak past the night guards, then he went in the front, leaving his gun with Siddiq. “Stay here, I’ll come and get you. If I’m not back in a day, leave, okay?”

“Yes. Carl, thank you.”

Carl’s attempt to pull up the grates from inside Alexandria was noticed by Michonne, the one person who might not think the way his dad thought.

Suddenly, a loud clang started them. The last voice they wanted to hear reached their ears.

“You may be wondering why the hell your lookouts didn't sound the alarm. See, we are polite. I mean, I don't know when they're gonna wake up from that kinda shot, but they should wake up. So  let's just cut through the cow shit – you lose. It's over. So you're gonna line up in front of your little houses, and you're gonna work up some apologies, and then the person with the lamest one is gonna get killed. Then I kill Rick in front of everybody, and we move on. You have three – count 'em, three minutes to open this gate, or we start bombing the shit out of you!”

“They got out.” Michonne’s face was fearful. For the first time since Carl knew her, she was fearful. She wasn’t fearful the night he got raped. She wasn’t fearful the night Glenn was killed. But she was fearful now. Because all their hope were riding on the Saviors dying in their Sanctuary.

Negan whispered into his receiver.

“Come on.” Carl rushed. He had an idea. “Michonne, come on!”

Everyone capable of leading people crowded around him. “You need to make it look like we're escaping out back.” Carl started with the crux of his plan. “Get to the woods, halfway to the quarry, and cut the lights. Get enough of a lead on them, hit them, and get away on foot. You know where we'll be.  Just have to get the guns, get everyone else here, and we'll meet you there.”

“Two minutes, people! Dig deep. I want these apologies to be memorable. Bonus points for creativity. Work up a poem, sing a song. I love that shit.”

“Get going. There's gonna people in the infirmary. They're gonna need your help.”

Tara hissed. “Look, we got guns. We can fight them.”

“We will, but not now.” Rosita calmed her. “Carl's right.”

“Carl, we can't just let them have this place.” **No, Michonne, we can’t let them have US.**

“We can. All you need to do is survive tonight. This is my show. You said it. This is my plan, and you're gonna do it. You're all gonna do it. So let's go!”

“One minute! One minute! Well, here we are. I didn't want it to come to this. Much rather would've been at home tonight. But you folks wanted to order off the menu. And look at that! Now you have to eat shit. God knows I didn't want to be the one serving it up!”

Carl herded everyone off to the few manholes before leaving by himself with a bag full of smoke grenades.

He threw the bag at the base of the guard post and climbed up.

He was a dead man anyway.

“Okeydokey. Brought this on yourself, Rick. See, was willing to work with you. All you had to do was follow a few very simple rules. Now -- Well, now I see that you got to go. Scorched earth, you dick!”

“He’s not home.” His voice startled Negan. He looked enraged, covered up with that dirty grin.

“Oh-ho-holy shit! Everybody hold your fire. It's Carl. Look at you. Answering the door like a big boy. I am so proud. Daddy's not home, huh? Well, I guess he's gonna get back to a big old smoky surprise.”

“There's families in here… Kids... My little sister.”

Negan hesitated.

“Well, that shit just breaks my heart. There's kids at the Sanctuary, Carl. You must've seen 'em.” Negan smiled sadly, an expression none of his men had ever seen. “Even had a little baby at one of the outposts. I wonder what happened to her.” The breeze made Carl shudder, not because of the first humane expression he saw on Negan’s face. Negan didn’t care. **He doesn’t.**

“None of this shit's fair, kid. Hell, you know that. You had to kill your own mom…” Negan whispered regretfully. “That is screwed up. Ergo, we need someone in charge who's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that shit doesn't happen. Oh. Wait. That's me.”

“Bad stuff does happen, but we can figure this out. We can stop this.”

“Oh, now you want to talk? See, your dad had it that I died, He gave my people a choice. Not me. Now we're gonna need a new understanding. Apologies, punish-”

“Kill me.” Carl’s voice was rough. It was painful for Negan to hear from a fucking sixteen-year-old.

Negan seemed stunned. “What did you say?”

“If you have to kill someone, if there has to be punishment, then kill-me.” Negan’s fist gripped Lucille so hard it hurt.

“I'm serious.”

Something on Negan’s cheeks shined, but it wasn’t like anyone there could tell.

Negan saw a brave child with the heart of gold. It hurt that this child was born into this life where his only value in life was as tribute, as sacrifice. **Where was his dad now?** Riding off into the sunset, screwing things up for everyone, and letting his own son bear the heat? Carl didn’t deserve this. “You wanna die?”

“No, I don't. But I will...” Carl paused and swallowed frantically. Negan could see it. The kid was frightened as hell. But he didn’t stop. “It's gonna happen. And I – if me dying could stop this, if it can make things different – for us, for you, for all those other kids – it'd be worth it…”

“I think you got it topsy-turvy, upside, humpty dumpy, god damn wrong.” Negan whispered. “You’re the one that love these people… Not your dad.”

“Maybe. And maybe you do love yours too…”

Negan started. Then both of them laughed tearfully.

“I mean, was this the plan? Was it supposed to be this way- Is this the world you are trying to build-”

“Is this who YOU wanted to be?!” Negan shouted angrily. He eyed the lone figure standing on that guard tower, bartering with his own life.

“…Yes. Yes it is.”

 

A loud crash came from the back of the safe-zone, prompting Carl to jump down from the guard post.

Carl moved around the safe-zone and released smoke grenades on every lawn. He kept out of sight as much as possible. Last mission, Carl. **Do it right.**

 

“Son of a bitch, Carl! Was that just a play?! I thought we were havin' a moment, you little asshole! Bombs away!” Negan ordered the whole place to be bombed in a fit of rage. They moved into the safe-zone like walking on a piece of cake. His men were staring at him weird. He smiled thirstily like he always did. They looked away.

Negan chuckled. The men. They knew him the best, didn’t they? They followed Negan for fucking years, and didn’t know him half as well as Carl did. Maybe he really messed up. Maybe his idea had been wrong all along. But he kept over hundreds of people safe for years. He made a system with so many other civilisations. He had outposts. He created a society. Did that count for nothing to Carl?

“That convoy, they got away, huh? All of 'em? Kid's still gotta be here. I think he wanted to go down with the ship. Search the place. Find him, tie him up. Don't kill him. Blow up every other house. I'm gonna go to Rick's, make a little spaghetti. When he shows up, send him my way.”

Negan walked towards Rick’s house, dragging Lucille on the floor. He got to teach the pussy of a father a lesson.

 

_“Carl? Judith? Michonne? Garrrh!” Negan lay Lucille into him, avoiding the head. He continue beating him, taking out all his anger._

_“This shit isn't funny anymore. Don't make me do this now, Rick. I got plans for you. Cut you up in little bitty pieces, feed you to the dead, and make you watch. Then, when you're some sort of screwed-up, creepy stump with a head, that's when I'm gonna kill you -- in front of everybody. I front of CARL!!”_

_“You ever shut the hell up?”_

_“Nope! You know your kid volunteered to die? What kind of boy you raise, Rick? I'm gonna fix him. 'Cause I like him. A few years, he's gonna be one of my top guys! When I am done with you, nobody will ever try to do what you did – not ever again! Not your friends, not your son –”_

Rick’s heart raced painfully from recalling the last hour. The world had finally settled down some.

He missed everything. Gone to the Scavengers, tried to get help, end the Saviors once and for all. But none of it mattered in the end. Their people should all be dead. Their homes are all burnt. The only reason Rick even had something to come back to was because Carl saved them all.

His mind couldn’t focus on anything right now. His eyes darted fearfully around him, searching for his only remaining family.

They were all just sitting there. Everyone. Safe. Rick shuddered.

**Lori…**

She sat… In the distance... Beautiful dark, wavy hair. Sitting with their daughter. Not Shane’s. Theirs. **Why are you back?**

Rick teared and stumbled forward, gasping. **Have I failed you again? Is that why you’re back?**

She caressed Judith kindly. **Have I failed Judith?**

He neared them. The two figured hugged together like they were of the same body, same blood. **Have I failed Carl?**

The silhouette changed as he neared it.

Reality crashed into his mind and he sobbed. His son. Rick gasped and shook. **Carl- Carl- No.**

Carl’s face was pale and covered in sweat. But he was still smiling. He was still hugging Judith to his chest, soothing her and giving her warmth in this cold, damp and dark place.

“Carl!” Michonne cried.

Rick’s eyes flickered between Carl and the man seated beside them.

“I brought him here. That's how it happened.” Carl lifted his shirt. Rick didn’t want to see, but he had to. He needed to remember how he failed his son so when Lori asked him. He could confess and repent.

It was an ugly mangled wound, still oozing blood at a slow rate underneath the soaked bandage.

Michonne shook her head frantically.

“That’s not a bite wound. That’s not! A bite!” She backed away and fell against Rick.

_“Paa- lub ew. Cah-uu.” Carl chuckled. “Love you too sweetie.”_

_Rick flicked Carl on the forehead. “C’mon. We gotta go.”_

_“Yes, Mr Sheriff.”_

Carl smiled softly like he did then, full of happiness and hope. “The walker tore my shirts, the bandage, and a chunk of flesh off.”

“No! It can’t be!” Michonne broke down and pulled Carl into a hug. “There’s a chance. There’s a chance!!”

“Misho.” Judith comforted blearily from her position on Carl’s chest. She leaned back down onto Carl, subdued, like she knew what would happen to her brother.

Rick kneeled and bowed his head. “Carl-”

“No!” Michonne cried. “Rick! You’re his _dad_. You’re not supposed to give up!”

“Michonne, whether it’s a walker bite or not, we don’t have any medicine for this in Alexandria. You’ll only be wasting resource anyways… It’s over.” Carl sighed strengthlessly.

“Caruu.” Judith gripped his finger tightly and her wide attentive eyes were locked on his, suddenly breaking into tears. “Caruu.”

“You should take her, dad.” Rick shied away, muttering rapidly under his breath and shuddering.

Pain erupted over Carl’s face. His eyes pinched, lips tightened. “Dad! You can’t be like that, again. People are counting on you.” Carl tried to push himself off the floor but collapsed backwards. “Judith is counting on you…” Carl suppressed his tears.

Judith gripped his fingers, his shirt and even his hair tighter. She wouldn’t let go no matter how much he tried to raise her off. He didn’t really have much energy left and fell back against the stone wall. She’s pretty stubborn for such a little girl. Carl hoped she would grow up to be like their mom. Kind, but hard as steel.

“I love you too, Judith. Soo… Much…”

Carl kissed her on her plump, clean-smelling cheeks.

Carl thought hard about what he wanted to say… but in the end, his mother’s voice echoed in him mind. “Before mom died, she told me that I was gonna beat this world…”

Rick jerked… He had never asked Carl for Lori’s last words. He didn’t know why he didn’t.

Carl continued. “I didn't beat this world after all…” Carl touched her cheeks and wiped those beady tears away. “You will. You hear that baby? _You_ are going to beat this world.”

“We get you to the saviors.” Michonne blurted out. “We get you to the saviors. They have a doctor. They have medicine.”

Rick’s head jerked up.

Carl sighed and shook his head. “No, Michonne- you can’t risk it… You’ll lead them back to us…”

“Baby. We can.” Michonne held his face tenderly. She grunted and struggled a bit with the weight, but the thought of Carl’s dead mother gave her strength. She pulled him up into her arms with Judith still in Carl’s arms, and stomped past everyone. She needed to do her right. She promised herself she would look after Rick, Carl and Judith in her stead. She wasn’t giving up. Not yet!

Rick jerked into life and took Carl off her, carrying him on his back while Michonne held Judith. “I’ll get him there!”

“No, Negan hates you. He’s going to kill you. And they need you here to lead them!”

Rick grabbed Michonne’s arm. “No, they need you and Carl. Not me! Shit happened and I was gone half a day for nothing, Michonne! I didn’t trap them in the sanctuary and I didn’t protect this place. This is the only thing I can do. Negan is going to see me and take out all his anger on me. He’ll let everyone else go.”

Michonne’s heart dropped. “Feels like the last I’ll see you again.” She sobbed.

Carl watched them hug tightly. He hoped he wouldn’t be the reason his dad died. He would never forgive himself otherwise.

She held Rick back and softly asked Carl. “Carl… precaution… Please.”

Carl was barely conscious, but he smile and nodded. “Sure. Whatever.”

Michonne pulled out a thick handkerchief and tied it around Carl’s mouth to the back of his head so his jaws couldn’t close. Carl fell asleep before she finished it.

Rick and Michonne shared one last kiss, and they climbed up.

 

Negan sat at the porch, blood dripping down his head.

An odd figure emerged from the smoke and shadows. Rick was carrying Carl. Carl, tied up and unconscious.

Negan jerked as his body was clenched in fear.

He ran forward and punched Rick in the nose, pulling Carl off him. His entire right side was bloodier than Negan remembered and he was pale and shaking. Negan tore his shirt, revealing the nasty wound.

“He-he got shot by the scavengers. Tore his wound wide open fighting them afterwards.” Rick choked out. “Then he reopened it saving someone. H-he said the walker bit over his clothes. Tore a bunch off along with his bandage. Along with his flesh.”

“He’s infected.” Negan announced coldly.

“You don’t know that!”

Rick crawled back so he could scream at Negan.

“You don’t know that!!”

His men surrounded them and pressed Rick down.

Negan looked down at the wound that was leaking smelly white pus.

“And if he is?”

“Then I’ll end him myself.” Rick sobbed.

“And if he’s not?”

Rick snapped up. “You said you’d raise him better! You said you care! Well now he’s bleeding and burning out on the pavement. You prove it! You prove your words!”

Negan stood up with Carl in his arms, “Release Rick.”

“Negan?” someone asked.

“I don’t give a damn about him. If I kill him, it’s going to be in front of everyone he cares about. They’re not going anywhere. We’re going back!”

The entourage left Alexandria an hour left from dawn, bringing the most important person in the Grimes family with him.

 

“Negan, Dr Carson had escaped! Along with Eugene!”

Negan slammed his palm against the window, causing a crack to fissure out. Carl lay against his chest in his lap, barely breathing. His temperature was through the roof. There was no way to tell if this was infection or a walker bite. Only time and medical care could tell.

“We’re going to the hilltop!”

 

The truck rammed the steelgates open, shocking Simon from his post.

“Get me the god forsaken widow!”

He stepped off the truck with Carl in his arms. Maggie would have run over even without his order.

“What did you do!”

“Fuck your smelly cunt, I didn’t do shit! The kid got this way playing hero.”

“Negan, what are you-”

“Simon, kindly shut it. Thank you!” He carried Carl into the main building against the rising sun.

He grabbed Maggie by her cheeks, ignoring her struggles. “Look, Dr Carson managed to escape with Eugene, so I’m betting they’re on their way here. Also, I’m betting that since you’re carrying a little Asian in you, you know some deal about this. So I’m handing over this piece of shit to you. Don’t make me regret this. Or you will.”

Maggie’s eye of hate was similar to Ricks. Negan released her and stepped back to simply watch. He’d already sent men back for more medical supplies. As many as the widow might need.

“What’s your blood type?”

“What, you wanna compare horoscopes while the boy’s intestines are hanging out?”

Maggie, enraged, stood up and faced him. “If he bled out before I can close fix his wound, or after, then it’s on you.” Negan snarled, “What’s his blood type?”

“A-poitive.”

Negan stood up and walked out. Soon, he was back and dragging a hilltop lady into the room. She was close to passing out from fear.

Carl’s fever only kept climbing, even when it’s close to midday. His fever didn’t drop, and neither did Maggie and Negan. Both stayed wide awake watching him. Negan’s focus was completely on Carl. However, something caught his attention. The widow swayed to the side and headed towards the floor. Negan instinctively reached for her and sat her on the couch, waking the lady which he dragged inside.

The Asian widow moaned. “Sit. Don’t move.”

**What is with Alexandrians always making me feel like some sort of villain?? First Carl, then this woman.**

Negan leaned close to Carl, feeling for his temperature. Couldn’t believe he dropped the shitshow back in the sanctuary and camped here just for a kid. That’s not even his. So what if he managed to save Carl. It’s not like he would be grateful…

Carl moaned. Negan sat down and shook him by the shoulders. “Carl, wake-”

“Mom… I did- ahh…”

Carl’s voice silenced again. The hope that rose disappeared. People bitten usually died and turned in around 30 hours time. That would make it around 10pm tonight. Negan thought about pursuing the Alexandrians and launching an attack on the Kingdom but felt no desire for that anymore. All his energy was being rapidly swallowed up. The further he stayed from Carl, the more miserable he felt.

“I’m going for a walk.” Negan announced. Simon was waiting for him outside, clearly waiting to talk to him, but Negan ignored him. He was almost out the door and almost ended up off balance when the door swung open from the outside. Dr Carson stood on the steps and Eugene stood behind him, frightened. Swallowing his rage, he pushed Dr Carson towards the room Carl was in. Feeling no desire to step outside again, Negan followed Carson in.

“What medicine has he been taking? No IVs?”

“We ran out of IV fluid just half an hours ago, but his liquid intake had been stable since this morning.” Maggie chimed in, though she seemed extremely weak herself. He nodded and checked the basic things. Blood pressure, pupil dilation, this, that... Then he opened up the bandage and checked for the wound.

“What made you think he was, or was not infected?”

Maggie looked to Negan oddly. “His father said that a walker tore his shirts away, together with his bandage and a bit of flesh. It used to be a gunshot wound, then a wider torn wound that was treated and stitched already. There is the possibility the walker’s mouth didn’t make contact with his flesh, just bit over his shirts. That area had a very old gunshot wound too, from when he was about twelve or thirteen. I did my best to take out the remnants of the stitches and re-stitch it. He stopped bleeding pretty quickly.” Maggie added on.

“Sounds like he’s as stable as he could get. Show me the list of medicine you have in your possession. There might be some things that can burn the infection down faster. Assuming it’s not a walker infection.”

“We’ll know by midnight tonight.”

 

_Carl woke up to a dark and unfamiliar ceiling. There was a painting up there. Just a painting of sky. And flowers. Not religious. And very pretty. He was kind of cold, yet warm. And it was very dark. Like the nightime in the wild with his mom._

_The surroundings were silent, then a very familiar sound could be heard. Beep. Beep._

_He heard this somewhere before. When he loved his dad._

_Right…_

_Hospital monitor… for something… heart rate maybe?_

_He used to thank the gods his dad still had this noise._

_Even though everyone said he wouldn’t wake up from what-was-it? A coma._

_But Carl always had hope._

_Carl choked with fear, recalling the events from before. How long had it been? Was he dead? Was he alive? How?_

Carl opened his eyes in fear, suddenly his eye was burned by the intense light. People were calling his name. Familiar voices.

The light was blissfully blocked out, leaving only a fraction of it.

He saw a few people.

Their names couldn’t come to mind.

He couldn’t think.

His mind couldn’t move.

He wanted to kick it to get it to move.

But he fell back asleep.

 

“Carl!” Negan shouted. The brat had the audacity to fall back asleep. Negan sighed. He was officially cleared of the walker bite yesterday night. But Negan was still fucking stuck in this fucking room with a bunch of traitors and still-brained morons.

He had to work out from here like some working from not-home bullshit.

“Negan, the Alexandrians are nowhere to be found. But there’s remnants in the sewers right underneath Alexandria.”

Negan side-eyed Simon. “Continue pursuing them, whatever. They need cars to move, and cars leave tracks. They can’t get very far without vehicles.”

Negan pinched his temple and rolled his neck.

“Here.” Maggie-mee held out a glass of warm water for him.

“Did you poison this?”

“No.” She slammed it into Negan’s hand.

“Woah… You hate me there. Why? Only Rick gets to hate me that much. What have I ever done to you?” Then it hit him. “Except-” Negan snapped his jaws shut.

“Bet you never lost someone you loved. Someone you loved with your life. I heard about you from Carl. From Daryl.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You play with people. You put on a charming and reasonable face and pressure people and manipulate people. You keep telling yourself they had a choice. But you’re just lying to yourself. Giving people choices that you frame. That you set up. That forces them to pick the choices that benefit you? You love playing god, telling people what they can become, what they can contribute, and that makes you feel strong. But you’re really no different than any other assholes out there that wants to control people. You just act better.”

“And you got that just by talking to be twice?”

“People are blind to what they don’t want to see. Your people, don’t see it because they don’t want to. You’re _that_ transparent.”

She stormed out of the room.

 

Carl moaned for the fifth time that afternoon. Excuse Negan for enjoying his nap for once and not jumping up for joy.

“Negan?”

Negan shot up. Carl opened his eye and blinked at him.

“This is- Hilltop? Why are we here? My bite?”

Carl dragged his shirt upwards.

“I really thought you were smart but I’m gonna have to rethink that. Who mistakes infection for walker bite these days. God you’re ridiculous.” His voice lost the bite it usually had.

“Why didn’t you kill me…”

“Why do you insist I kill you?!” Negan raged. “First thing you ask, can’t it be something normal? _‘Negan! Thank you for saving my life! Can I have some water?’_ Try it! After me- _‘Neg-’_ ”

“…I’m sorry…” Carl looked down, even thought he was still laying down.

Negan rubbed his own forehead.

“Stay with me. I can keep you safe. I can protect you. _I can groom you._ ”

Carl shook his head.

“God damn it!”

Carl’s hand covered Negan’s. “Thank you for saving my life. For what it’s worth. Whatever I said that night. I didn’t lie. I’m willing to die, so you’d let everyone else go. Let me talk to my dad. He’ll listen. He’ll promise me. Then you can kill me, as punishment. And you let them go – no more feeding you, serving you, fighting you. Everyone lives.”

“Except you.”

“Except me.”

“Why you? What makes you thin-”

“Because I’m special to my dad. To my group. To Alexandria. And now, I’m spe-cial to you too.” Carl’s voice broke. **Special to me too… Why do you make it sound like some sort of death sentence, Carl? Can’t I care about someone? Can’t I keep you?**

“My death can keep this peace. Think about it, Negan. You can’t keep fighting forever. Sooner or later, one of the two sides will die. What can you gain from that day that will cover what we all lose?”

Carl just woke up. And he was seriously trying to convince Negan to kill him. Trying to convince Negan to let him convince his dad, to let him die.

“My mom told me, before she died, that I need to do the right thing. Even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts. It hurts, it does. But it’s what I gotta do. Cus I love her. Don’t you love your mom? Didn’t your children love their mom?”

“I cheated on her for years. Until she got sick. Then she died when this all happened.”

“But you did love her.” Carl whispered.

“I- I did. I truly did.”

Carl waited for two minutes while they got their emotions under control.

“Was her name Lucille?”

“Fuck. You. Carl. No, her name is NOT Lucille, god, that is wrong on so many levels.”

Carl chuckled with him.

“Hey Maggie.” Negan looked back and noticed the widow leaning against the doorway. “Anyone ever told you listening in to conversations is rude?”

She ignored him and checked on Carl. She kissed him on his forehead. “I’m glad you’re okay. You gave us quite a scare.”

“I tried.”

She uncovered his bandage. The wound was ugly, but it’s pretty clean now. It would leave one hell of a scar. Negan said just that.

“So it goes with my eye then?” Carl stared at Negan anticipatingly.

“Sure. A stump would complete it.” Maggie eyed him in warning. “Lighten up, I’m not going to chop his arm off.

“You almost did.”

That shut Negan up pretty quick.

“Carl, you should get some more rest. You can talk after you wake up.” Carl nodded and closed his eyes.

 

Negan went back to the Sanctuary with his people, rebuilding its defences with Eugene’s help. Carl sent him off.

_“About your offer, you work on your dad’s side first. I’ll think about it.” Then Negan glared at Carl’s smile, “but my only condition being, you don’t get to die.”_

_“There’s no better assurance though. I’m the only one whose death can mean something…”_

_Negan grabbed his hair angrily, ignoring Maggie’s protests. “Well, put that brain to work. You’re bound to think of something, since obviously none of my methods work.”_

_“You killed people, like we did yours. Since when does that help resolve conflict.”_

_“In my defense, I was having career day.”_

_“I didn’t see your brochures.”_

_Negan snorted and drove off._

Carl packed up as much as he could. His dad much be freaking out after a month of his absence. Hilltop was under surveillance so that was a no to make contact. Carl was going to have to make his way himself, since Maggie was pregnant.

Carl was given a car by Negan. He waved goodbye to Maggie.

“Be back safe, better yet, don’t come back at all.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Carl drove off, an old paper map in his hand. The path wasn’t familiar, but the destination was. He was going to find it sooner or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where I stopped writing. Don't know if I'm going to write more. I know where Rick and his crew should be escaping to, but I'm leaving it open for now. Lemme know if someone makes a guess. But yeah, I might not continue. We'll see. I haven't even continued watching because Carl died. Seriously. That's the lousiest character death in the whole TV series. I don't approve, and even if the show didn't turn out too badly afterwards, I still won't agree with this decision.  
> I mean the reasons given was that Carl's death won't change the major plot arcs in the future so they're not worried about killing him off.  
> I call BULLSHIT.  
> He could have been influential if you made him. He used to be a vulnerable innocent kid, mostly sidelined as a supporting character. Then during the Greene farm arc (which was introduced with him getting shot for fuck's sake) instead of fearing guns, he decided to learn them. Then he's the one who put a bullet between Shane's eyes. He defied his father and took in Sasha and her crew, introducing her to us and she stuck with us for a long journey, eventually commiting suicide so she won't be Negan's hostage. He's the one Lori's last words to 'beat this world' was directed to. While Rick was off going coocoo and doing god knows what, he's the one guarding Judith. He told Rick he shouldn't be leading them anymore, showing honesty and courage, and perceptiveness for a boy his age. When the prison was overrun, he's the one helping Rick keep the walkers out between the fences. And when he and Rick escaped to a neighbouring town just the two of them, Rick was badly injured. Leaving him to fend for himself. There was so many instances that showed his repressed resentment on the world and on his father for failing to be that superhuman sheriff father figure he believed in. He was desperate and pressed down beneath three walkers with no way to escape, (I half-expected Rick to appear to save him which was a easy way to resolve that scene) then Carl saved himself. He found small joy in savouring a can of pudding like a boy his age should have, sitting barely ten feet from a walker. He's beating this world. He truly is. He's could have been a really big presence.  
> There are way more characters that are even less essential to future plots in the series, does that mean you kill off all of them, just cus you can? This is the most hilarious bullshit excuse I've ever heard.  
> And the second reason is that Carl's death would trigger a big humanitarian response and be a drive to Rick and group.  
> Carl grew for fking 8 seasons, to someone thats filling Ricks shoes at the prison and at Alexandria. He grew up in this hell of a world. He's the only one Negan could bond with and sorta respect. He had so much potential, because the director/writers build him up to HAVE that potential.  
> Before Carl I was very taken in with Glenn since the start of the series, and he made his mark on everyone. He saved Rick for no expectation of returns and risked his life in the process. He stuck by Rick's side all these years. Silently supporting Rick even though he's a much better leader with a cool head in desperate times. He's brave. He's down to earth. He got the chance to grow as a character. Falling in love, getting married even (i cried so hard) and even had an unborn child. He died with Maggie in his mind and was killed by Negan. His character evolved and when the time came for him to die, his death was meaningful and so memorable.  
> Carl? He died to in the process of saving someone like any other characters could have done. He died so his death would be an emotional mark on the rest and motivate them to be more merciful or whatever, but I'd much rather HE be that drive, not his death. He was already filling a leadership role in people's mind. They watching him grow up, especially Maggie, who watched him since the Greene farm. He would have made a difference if they made him step up. Or maybe carve out a split in the group to complicate things. They could have made him achieve a strong emotional effect on the group regardless. Instead, we watched his growth for 8 seasons just to watch him die right before adulthood.  
> BULLSHIT. He would have been such a big influence reigning in Rick and setting up some sort of balance in terms of their morality. There could have been so much more to build on in terms of their father-son relationship. And in such an ugly world to a young girl, a older brother figure to protect her and show her the way and maybe eventually dying to protect her. THAT would've been something.  
> I just really hope that the writers that suggested this and chose this would have the guts to stick to their decision, and not half-ass this, like by throwing in another pseudo-Carl to fill his shoes as Judith's brother or smt. They should, at least, own up to what they bit off and chew it all down.  
> So much rage. RAGE.


End file.
